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SHE UNFOLDED THE PAPER AND BEGAN TO READ 





Copyright, 1909, 

By THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 


All Rights Reserved 


• e 

< • « 


Cl. A 24 6239 

Alia 20 1909 


To 

Four 


AND 

One More. 


/ 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTEBI PAGE 

I. The Cause of Liberty 1 

II. Honor is the Subject of My Story . 21 

III. Judy’s Plan 43 

IV. The Arrival of the Reformers ... 59 

V . The Poet of the Breakfast-Table . 73 

VI. The S. P. O. D 93 

VII. The Meaning of a Prank . . . . 110 

VIII. For Love's Sake 128 

IX. The S. P. O. D. in Working Trim . . 152 

X. ** Buttered Soles ” 167 

XI. The Last Straw -188 

XII. An Afternoon Call 205 

XIII. With the Improvers .... . . 229 

XIV. “Handkerchief Day” . . . . . 256 



ILLUSTRATIONS 


She unfolded the paper and began to 

read . . . • Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

** Another ! she cried 68 ^ 

He jumped up waving something in his hand . 124 

Then the sport began, and I tell you what, it was 

glorious! 178 


We Four and Two More 


CHAPTER I 

THE CAUSE OF LIBERTY 

There were four dogs at Uplands — Larry, 
the setter; Crumb, the Irish terrier; Shadow, 
the fox, and the brown puppy, who was the 
littlest of the lot and “nothing but a pure 
mongrel,” as Danby said, with his nose in the 
air. The first three were Granny’s property, 
the last one belonged to us — he was our very 
own. He came from nowhere in particular 
just after our arrival, and his welcome wasn’t 
as pleasant as ours had been. The stable-men 
drove him off with sticks and stones; they 
didn’t intend he should stay where he wasn’t 
wanted. They made that quite clear to him, 
or at least they thought they did. They were 
wrong. Perhaps he was too young to under- 
stand, or perhaps he meant to win them over. 
For back he trotted in the most forgiving and 
forgetting spirit possible. 

Now this was fine and no mistake, only the 


2 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


men didn’t see it in the same light. They 
didn’t want to be won over. Instead, they 
agreed darkly among themselves to drown him. 
So they coaxed him to them, pretending they 
were friendly ; they fed him, stroked him, made 
his heart go pitapat with joy, and as soon as he 
was wriggling all over with gladness they tied 
a rope around his neck and dragged him to the 
pond. I guess the world looked pretty black 
to the poor fellow then; something must have 
told him that his end was drawing nigh. But 
just as the dreadful deed was about to be 
enacted, as they say in the history books, the 
captive broke from his cruel foes and ran off 
as fast as he could chase. 

We knew nothing of this at the time, or the 
men would have had us to deal with, I can tell 
you. We are the Egertons — Philip (that’s 
me), Judy, my twin, Gilbert, and Margery — 
“us four, and no more.” Cousin Laura says 
that that last is a matter for much rejoicing. 
She is Granny’s cousin, so you see she isn’t a 
really near relation to us, except that she lives 
at Uplands — which make a nearness very 
often most uncomfortable now that we’ve 
come here to stay, because Father and Mother 


THE CAUSE OF LIBERTY 


S 


have gone to Manila with the regiment. We 
heard about the pup one afternoon when we 
were in the harness room and we cleared out 
right away. We wouldn’t have anything to 
do with such entertainers, though they were 
doing their politest for us. We couldn’t for- 
get the poor little homeless one, and we 
searched for him high and low. But it was 
all in vain. And yet, a few days later, when 
we were out on an exploring expedition — for 
the place was new to us — the instant we heard 
a faint crying in some bushes our thoughts flew 
to him. 

And it did seem most too good to be true, 
for it really was the pup himself. We recog- 
nized him from the description those unfeel- 
ing men had given, though he was thinner than 
ever, with his ribs showing through like barrel 
hoops, and the aU of him so miserable that even 
a heart of stone would have melted at the 
sight. Our hearts were not of that enduring 
stuff, but far otherwise, as the pup must have 
seen at a glance. He wagged his tail weakly 
and crawled toward us, uttering little squeaks 
which set Judy and Margery to crying real 
tears. He was pretty far gone, but we gave 


4 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


him some milk and biscuits we’d brought along 
and presently he seemed to feel better in his 
legs, you could almost see the frisldness come 
back. He was so glad to belong to some- 
body. Of course he felt that we’d adopted 
him, and we couldn’t disappoint him after 
what he’d gone through — blows, and starva- 
tion, and the next thing to drowning. We just 
took him into our hearts and pledged ourselves 
solemnly to be as fathers and mothers to him. 
It was a happy arrangement, and everything 
went well until Gilbert, who is a prudential 
boy, cast a shiver over us all by saying that 
perhaps Granny would have some remarks to 
make, and then — what? 

That was a staggerer! We’d only lately 
come to Uplands, and though Granny is 
Mother’s mother, you can’t always reckon on 
grown-ups; you have to feel your way. So 
we raked our brains to find out what was best 
to do. And first we thought we’d hide the 
pup in the bushes and visit him on the sly, 
bearing food and water to him as folks do in 
war-time to secreted ones. He would have to 
be tied of course, not to keep him from run- 
ning away, but to keep him from running after 


THE CAUSE OF LIBERTY 


5 


us, for though we might desert him, he’d never 
give us up. We soon saw that plan wouldn’t 
work. It would be dreadfully hard upon him 
nights, and it might pour a deluge any time, 
or strange boys might tease him — or — worse! 
The rope, too, would frighten him, he wouldn’t 
understand it. He’d put his whole trust in 
us, and the loneliness far from the people he 
loved — because all in a minute a dog will give 
you his heart for keeps — would be terrible hard 
to stand up under. We knew how that was 
ourselves. Father and Mother had only been 
gone a few weeks, and the ache they’d left be- 
hind was all edges — ^it wouldn’t get comfort- 
able. So you can see why we didn’t want to 
plant one like unto it in a dog’s breast. But 
the more we talked the more muddled we got, 
until Judy fired a question at our heads. 

“Have we adopted this pup to love, and 
cherish, and honor, and obey — for better, or 
worse?” she asked. 

“You bet we have,” I answered, “and 
what’s more we’ve sworn it ungetoutably.” 

“Well, then,” she cried, “let’s go break the 
news to Granny. She’ll have to know sooner 
or later.” 


6 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

It was splendid advice, but just at first it 
knocked the wind completely out of us, and 
we could only stare at her while she looked 
back without winking; her eyes very big and 
shiny and her face fiame color. All of a sud- 
den she sprang to her feet. “Are you going 
to forget that you are a soldier’s children?” 
she demanded. 

I was up in a jiffy. 

“Not me,” I cried, “I’ll let you know I’m 
no coward.” 

The others stood up, breathing like steam 
engines. “You needn’t give yourself such 
airs, Judy Egerton,” Gilbert put in angrily. 
“I was the first to think of Granny, and I 
told you so. I dare anyone to call me a ’fraid 
cat.” 

It was no time for war between us, but 
Judy’s words — and more especially the way 
she said them (that’s always the worst part!), 
were like a bomb thrown into our peaceful 
midst. I didn’t mean, though, that there 
should be any fighting if I could help it. 

“Oh! come, Gilbert,” I interposed, “Judy 
only wanted to spur us on. You’ll spoil every- 
thing if you start a row. We’ve got to stand 


THE CAUSE OF LIBERTY 7 

or fall together, and you can bet your hat 
there won’t be any falling.” 

“But if it’s to be all standing we’ll never 
reach Granny,” Judy wailed. “ Can’t you see 
that we’ve got to be up and doing with a heart 
for any fate?” 

I kept my temper, because I knew she was 
right. We couldn’t wait, we just had to go 
and have the matter settled at once. So off 
we trooped. I led, with the pup half asleep in 
my arms; then came Judy, then Gilbert, and 
last of all, Margery, bringing up the rear, be- 
cause she was the youngest. We went very 
solemnly up the long drive, and when the 
house was reached we crept in through a side 
door and tiptoed along to the Blue Room. 
We met no one by the way. It was exactly 
like the Palace of the Sleeping Beauty in the 
fairy tale; everywhere it was so very still. 
And as we went we couldn’t help feeling 
rather downhearted about our knees, with not 
knowing how Granny would take it all. It 
was hardest on me, really, because the pup 
would put out his little pink tongue every 
now and then and lick my cheek, and he did 
look so contented, just as if he thought 


8 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

his happiness was going to last forever- 
more. 

Granny was at her desk, but as we entered 
the room she turned with a smile as if she was 
awfully glad to see us. Perhaps she’d finished 
writing, or perhaps she remembered right then 
that Father and Mother were far away and 
she had to be both of them at once to us (only 
she never could be for all her trying!). Be- 
fore she could speak I up and told her what 
we’d come about, and after I was through we 
went closer and showed her the pup. 

He was as cute as they’re made; he half 
winked at her, for all the world like some jolly 
little beggar, but he wouldn’t budge from my 
arms — he just snuggled down more firmly as 
though to show he was there to stay. 

“Why, Phil,” she exclaimed, “he’s noth- 
ing but a common little cur. Look at his 
coat ” 

“Oh! Granny dear,” Judy broke in, 
“Father says we mustn’t ever judge anyone 
by his coat, and I’m sure when the puppy is 
washed and brushed he’ll look more associable 
right away. He is dirty and smelly now, 
though inside he has the loveliest, cleanest 


THE CAUSE OF LIBERTY 9 

heart, and it will break to flinders if we desert 
him.” 

Granny didn’t speak; she sat quite still look- 
ing at us, and most especially at the pup, as if 
she were studying something very hard. 

“My dear children,” she said at last, “I 
don’t want to refuse you anything in reason, 
but I can’t say yes to this request. I’ll have 
Danby find a home somewhere for the little 
stray — a good home — won’t that do as well?” 

I couldn’t utter a sound; I just squeezed the 
puppy tighter. It’s queer how undetachable 
some things are in a moment. Gilbert and 
Margery stared straight before them, breath- 
ing very hard, but Judy stepped out of the 
line and went close to the desk, 

“It wouldn’t be the same to the puppy,” 
she declared softly, “he’d be most unhappy, 
thinking of us. Please let him stay, dear 
Granny.” 

“There are already a number of dogs at 
Uplands,” Granny said, a bit sharply. “ Don’t 
you like them? ” 

“ We love them, and they adore us,” Judy 
cried, “they’re the dearest dears. Only, you 
see, we saved this one, and we took a vow to 


10 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


look after him for better, or worse, forever 
and ever, so we can’t break our solemn word.” 

“ But, my dear Judy,” Granny put in, “ you 
had no right to make such a vow, you ought to 
have consulted me first.” 

“I s’pose so,” Judy owned sadly, ‘‘only 
somehow you do a thing quick and never think 
about the ‘ought’ until afterwards. That’s 
the way it always is! And we didn’t have the 
time, really; we had to adopt the puppy be- 
fore he could feel we were horrid like the rest 
of the world, and he wasn’t wanted anywhere. 
We couldn’t hurt his feelings.” 

Granny tapped her foot on the floor, her 
face all puckered up, as if thinking didn’t 
come easy to her. Anyone could see, though, 
that she was trying to look at our side. 

“A little common cur,” she went on slowly, 
“and our dogs have always been thorough- 
breds — that’s Uplands’ record. Larry, and 
Crumb, and Shadow are such fine fellows, I’m 
proud of their pedigrees.” 

“What is a pedigrees?” Margery inter- 
rupted. “Is it something to do with their 
feet?” 

(That’s just like her! She’s always bother- 


THE CAUSE OF LIBERTY 11 

ing people with silly questions. I tried to 
frown her into silence, but it was too late.) 

“No, darling,” Granny laughed. “It’s an 
account of one’s ancestors. Let me see if I 
can make it clear to you. When we speak 
of a dog’s pedigree we mean that we know 
something about the dogs from whom he is 
descended — his father and mother, and grand- 
fathers and grandmothers, and a little chart 
is made in order that if the dog is exhibited 
at a Show the facts of his parentage may be 
known. Some day you’ll learn all about your 
own pedigree, Margery, and what brave and 
good men and women your ancestors were. 
I’ll show you our family tree— — ” 

“Have we a family tree?” Margery asked, 
staring with all her might. 

Granny sat up very straight in her chair, 
quite away from its back, her eyes snapping. 

“My dear child,” she cried, “where have 
you been brought up? Of course we have, 
and you can’t find a better one in the whole 
country.” 

“ Then if that’s so,” Judy burst in excitedly, 
“we ought to adopt a little dog who hasn’t 
any tree of his own, but only bushes where he 


12 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

can lay his lonely head. We ought to shelter 
him, and gladly too, under our family tree. 
There must be plenty of room.” 

Granny got up quickly and walked to the 
window, unregardful of us all. I was sure 
she was angry and had gone there to rule her 
spirit and be better than he that taketh a city, 
her face looked so red as she passed me. For 
anyone could see by the way she spoke that 
she was no end proud of the tree. Just like 
the chap in the poem who told the woodman 
to spare his, and touch not a single bough, be- 
cause it had sheltered him in his boyhood days, 
and he meant to protect it, or know the reason 
why. I suppose Granny thought she must do 
that too, since Grandfather was dead and she 
had to run the whole place. She had to take a 
firm stand about intruders. 

I felt, and so did Gilbert and Margery, that 
Judy had made a mess of it, but she didn’t 
seem a bit sorry. Presently, however, because 
we put a lot of “ Now you’ve done it, Smarty,” 
into our looks, she grew fidgety and snapped 
her eyes back, blustering it out, though it 
wouldn’t go down. She’d sent Granny into a 
towering rage, and the puppy was the same as 


THE CAUSE OF LIBERTY 13 

dead. He grew cuter, too, every moment — 
and there were a good many moments just 
then. Time goes so slow when you’re 
stretched helpless on the rack of waiting. 

Finally Granny turned and went right to 
where Judy stood, apart from us all, and she 
put her hand under her chin, tilting up her 
face. Judy isn’t like Margery — you’d never 
think the two were sisters. Her hair is brown, 
not golden, and it doesn’t curl a bit, though 
it crinkles a little back from her forehead and 
is long behind where it’s braided in a big pig- 
tail. She hasn’t pink and white skin, either; 
she’s kinder pale in her unexcited mo- 
ments, pale and thinnish, with never a dimple 
to her name, and her eyes, instead of being 
blue, are brown, but you never tire of looking 
at them — they’re so full of changes, though 
they ain’t strong, and she has to wear spectacles 
pretty generally. No, she isn’t a mite like 
Margery; folks don’t turn to stare after her, 
they just call her “odd,” yet they always end 
up by liking her. And what’s the best thing 
about her is that she’s game through and 
through. So she looked back squarely at 
Granny; she wasn’t afraid. 


14< WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

“ Child,” Granny said, with lots of love in 
her voice (you see she’d fought, and con- 
quered), “it’s true that those of us who have 
much should do our utmost for those who have 
little ; the rich must give to the poor, the strong 
must help the weak. Darling, the puppy may 
stay.” 

“0-oh!” Judy cried, with a long drawn 
breath, while we others were dumb with sur- 
prise, “you’re too swe-eet for anything! 
You’re the very dearest granny in the whole 
wide world of America, Europe, Asia, Africa 
and the archipelagoes. See how happy the 
puppy looks down to the very tip of his grate- 
ful tail.” 

She gave Granny’s hand a little squeeze, and 
a kiss, and the next instant we others swarmed 
around shouting our thanks at the top of our 
lungs. Granny kissed us and fought off the 
puppy, because he’d caught the trick of thank- 
ing, too, and his kisses were slobbery. But he 
didn’t mind; he’d heard her kindness, and he 
understood. 

“ Don’t let him come near me again, Phil,” 
she cried. “ Take him away and have him 
washed, and for pity’s sake use some of the 


THE CAUSE OF LIBERTY 15 

waters of Arabia before you bring him where 
I am.’’ 

“We’ll call him Janet after you,” Margery 
began. 

“No, no,” Granny interrupted, “that’s too 
great an honor, and I decline it; you’ll have to 
decide on something else.” 

“ What do you think of Moses? ” Gilbert de- 
manded in his lordliest manner. “It isn’t a 
very pretty name, but we found this fellow in 
the bushes, too ” 

“ Come off your perch,” I broke in. “ The 
Moses you mean was in the bulrushes — ^in a 
quaggy place, which Lady Tress lane isn’t. 
I’ve thought of a splendid name. Please lis- 
ten, Granny. I told you how the stable-men 
tried to kill the puppy with hurling stones at 
him, though they didn’t succeed. Then they set 
about to drown the little chap, but he escaped 
a watery grave. And so I think Liberty would 
be the dandies t name for him, because, you see, 
he’d rather have Liberty than death.” 

Granny stood looking at me as if she 
thought I’d gone crazy. 

“ Oh I you must know about Patrick Henry,” 
I went on, moving nearer to her, “ and how he 


16 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


said: ‘Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace, 
but there is no peace. The next gale that 
sweeps from the north will bring to our ears 
the clash of resounding arms. Our brethren 
are already in the field! Why stand we here 
idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What 
would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so 
sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains 
and slavery? Forbid it. Almighty God! I 
know not what course others may take, but as 
for me, give me liberty, or give me death.’ ” 

“Hurrah! Hurrah!” shouted Gilbert and 
the girls. Then Judy caught Granny’s dress 
in her hand. 

“ That’s Father’s very, very favoritest,” she 
cried, “You ought to hear him say it, his 
eyes shining just like Phil’s, and his face all 
lighted up as if something in his insides was 
on fire, and he ” 

She stopped very suddenly, and we had to 
keep still too, on account of the lumps in our 
throats. Even the puppy was quiet, and — 
somehow — Granny seemed far away; we 
couldn’t see her clearly. But she really was 
quite close, for presently she patted my shoul- 
der gently. 


THE CAUSE OF LIBERTY 


17 


“Those are grand words, Phil,” she said; 
“you can’t go wrong if you remember them, 
and especially if you remember your dear, 
noble father ” 

“And Mother too,” Judy put in. 

“And Mother too,” Granny repeated. Then 
she clapped her hands briskly and went on in 
a jolly, every-dayish voice, “Cheer up, chil- 
dren. Two years will go very quickly, and we 
are all going to be so bright and brave. Look at 
Libert}" now, struggling for freedom. I fancy 
he considers Phil’s grasp quite as bad as chains 
and slavery. There ! that’s better. Now scam- 
per away all of you to the stables, and tell 
William to give your playfellow a good scrub- 
bing. Tell him, too, that I wish this little 
newcomer to be treated as well as the other 
dogs; that he is one of my household. Be 
very polite about it, and let the other men un- 
derstand as well.” 

We cleared out directly, and in a little time 
Liberty was like another being. Truthfully, 
I think he didn’t approve of the washing, 
though he endured it nobly, only giving a few 
grunts and a snap or two, which did but prove 
that he had some spirit. His teeth were too 


18 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

young to work any mischief and William just 
laughed at his impudence. William’s a nice 
fellow, with no airs or affectations about him. 
When I gave the men Granny’s orders they 
listened for all they were worth, and then they 
owned up that they’d been wrong, and they 
honestly regretted it. They agreed, too, that 
the pup was a promising sort, which they’d 
overlooked before, on account of his not being 
as unspotted as could have been wished. Of 
course that was pretty handsome, and we shook 
hands all around to show we forgave them 
from our hearts. They were uncommonly nice 
and so eager to do things for us that they 
fairly tumbled over one another in their hurry, 
but when I told them the Patrick Henry bit 
they were as quiet as mice. They didn’t stir, 
and when I got through they didn’t stir, 
either; not that I minded, as I’d been there 
myself. 

By and by Danby, who was sitting on the 
block, cleared his throat and asked me to tell 
it all over again, which I did. I liked doing 
it. The next moment the men caught on like 
a house on fire, their faces just shone, and be- 
fore I could reach the end Danby was on his 


THE CAUSE OF LIBERTY 


19 


feet calling to them to give three cheers for 
Liberty. Then every man was up, and the air 
was so full of noise that we kids had to join 
in, too. It was like a bugle feeling in your 
spine, with drums, and fifes, and waving flags 
all jumbled together — a fellow had to yell — 
he couldn’t help it. There was a fine rumpus, 
you can bet, and it was so ear-cracking that our 
new Liberty scampered into Judy’s arms as 
scared as if a whole battalion of the enemy was 
at his heels. He thought, somehow, that we 
meant him. Of course everybody roared at his 
conceit, but more quietly, and he soon got 
over his fright, though he wouldn’t leave his 
shelter. 

He was looking very different, for a bath 
will work wonders. We hadn’t been able to use 
the Arabian water Granny spoke of; we just 
had to make plain pump water do, but it ran 
off the dirt splendidly, and Liberty came out 
spandy fresh, only smelling rather much of 
brown soap, which is a clean smell — though 
there are some who don’t care for it. William 
said he understood, and the next we knew he’d 
fetched a bottle of perfumery from his room. 
It was libelled “ The Breath of the Meadows,” 


go WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

and was very far-reaching. He was awfully 
choice of it himself, only using it Sundays 
when he went to walk with Bella, the kitchen- 
maid, who is his best girl. But his is a rare 
and generous soul. In spite of everything we 
could say he sprinkled more than half of it 
over the puppy, and after that you never 
would have dreamed brown soap had been used 
at all. 


CHAPTER II 

HONOR IS THE SUBJECT OF MY STORY 

“Two more!’’ cried a shrill voice in the 
room behind me. It was Cousin Laura speak- 
ing. I knew that right off, and I tell you 
what, I forgot all about my book, though I’d 
been deep in it the moment before, as I 
crouched closer into the corner, scarcely daring 
to breathe. Yet I was pretty safe. The 
heavy window-curtains fell to the floor in stiff, 
straight folds, leaving an open space in the 
middle and that part of the seat for anyone 
to see, but there were bully hiding-places at 
the sides if you remembered to squnch back, 
and nobody would ever suspect you were there, 
especially if you’d piled up the cushions 
kinder careless-like beforehand. 

“Two more!” the voice went on. “Janet 
Ronalds, have you gone out of your senses?” 

Granny gave a little cough that meant many 
things. 

“Not that I’m aware,” she answered 
21 


22 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

coldly. I think I may safely say I am still 
in my right mind, no matter what opinion 
others may hold of me.” 

“But to turn your house into an Infant 
Asylum,” Cousin Laura squeaked, “to have 
six children invade it — it’s preposterous, 
it’s ” 

I lost the rest of the sentence, so upsetting 
were those simple words “ six children.” What 
did she mean? What could she mean? There 
were only four of us. I sat up very straight, 
every part of my body tingling queerly. 

Now I know, as well as the next fellow, that 
it isn’t the thing to listen to people on the sly, 
only it’s different if you don’t set out pur- 
posely to do it. It’s like the greatness that 
Duke — Granny’s butler — is always talking 
about. He says some are born to it, and some 
scrabble around and get it themselves, and 
some have it thumped right down upon them. 
Eavesdropping is the same. Some are born 
eavesdroppers, and some go about eavesdrop- 
pering, and some have eavesdropping forced 
upon them. I really was the last first, which 
sounds like a charade, only it isn’t. 

That morning when I’d crept into the room 


THE SUBJECT OF MY STORY 2S 


about ten o’clock there wasn’t a soul in sight. 
It was raining pitchforks, though that didn’t 
matter much to me as there was nothing spe- 
cial to take me outdoors. Besides, I’d seen a 
jim-dandy book on one of the shelves in the 
library, and I wanted to have a fling at it; 
so as soon as I could, I left the others in our 
quarters, the girls sewing for their stupid dolls, 
and Gilbert pottering around among his 
things. They didn’t notice when I sneaked 
off, and I knew Judy wouldn’t give me away, 
she’d be the only one of the lot to think of my 
hiding-place because she’s so tremendously 
keen about reading herself. Gilbert and Mar- 
gery only care for the books that are written 
for kids, while she and I like the other kind. 
And that’s how I didn’t start out meaning to 
do any wrong, as you can see. Granny and 
Cousin Laura always sat in the Blue room 
after their breakfast, so I never dreamed they 
would come into the library. Which does but 
prove that “ dreams go by contraries,” as Cook 
truthfully remarks. Anyway, there I was in 
a pretty fix. For how could I burst out and 
frighten them out of their seven senses? All 
in a flash I had to hit on what to do — to eaves- 


24f WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

drop, or not to eavesdrop. And the first 
seemed best. Besides, things had gone so far — 
oh! you know how it is yourself — I just had to 
find out who those children were. 

“An Infant Asylum,” Cousin Laura went 
on, “I really wonder you’re not more firm. 
Why didn’t you wire Peter that it was impos- 
sible?” 

“Because it isn’t,” Granny cried hotly. “I 
fancy my house is large enough to accommo- 
date all my grandchildren. If there were 
sixty, instead of six, I should welcome them 
just the same.” 

Cousin Laura gave a great gasp that you 
could hear all over the room; it sounded as if 
something had gone to pieces inside of her. 
But she was mute, only her muteness said an 
awful lot. 

Granny chuckled a little (how I loved her 
for it!). She isn’t a bad sort by herself; it’s 
only because she hasn’t been with children for 
so long that she’s slow, sometimes, about un- 
derstanding them. 

“Come, come, Laura,” she said, “bear up! 
There are only six after all. You can console 
yourself with that thought, and Jack and 


THE SUBJECT OF MY STORY 25 


Sheila are quiet little bodies. . . . Pray, 

don’t sniff like that — it’s most annoying.” 

I buried my guilty nose in the pillow while 
Cousin Laura indignantly denied any sniffing 
on her part. 

“I’m not deaf yet,” Granny said with a 
touch of temper that meant she’d think what 
she pleased. “ I still retain my other faculties, 
though my mental powers have been ques- 
tioned. And I repeat they are quiet, well-be- 
haved children. Surely, you remember the 
charming little letters I have had from them.” 

Cousin Laura muttered something about the 
hand of the governess showing its cloven foot 
between the lines; you never could be certain 
of unassisted effort. Now, that was an unfair 
thing to say, and if she believed it in her secret 
soul she ought to have kept it there; but I 
suppose she was mad at being accused of a 
deed she hadn’t done, so she spoke rashly and 
unthinkingly. Her words acted like a match 
to powder. In an instant Granny’s grand- 
motherly spirit was up in arms, and from the 
way she went on you’d have thought there 
never had been, and never would be again, 
such wonderful children as Jack and Sheila 


26 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


Ronalds. I didn’t like the picture she drew 
of them. It was a mistake to have the stupid 
little beasts come. For once I was ready to 
side with Cousin Laura; theire really was no 
sense in making an Infant Asylum of Up- 
lands. 

By and by Granny came to the end of her 
breath so she had to stop, and for a long min- 
ute there wasn’t a sound in the room; though 
that thundery feeling was still in the air, and 
the rain outside rained very loud through the 
quietness. It’s funny, but the least thing will 
set grown-ups by the ears, and you never can 
tell when they’ll get over it. Cousin Laura 
was the first to speak — not that she meant to 
put an end to the unpleasantness, by any 
means. 

“And when do these paragons arrive?” she 
asked. 

Granny laughed; the sort of a laugh you 
give when you know you’ve been blowing, and 
you’re kinder ashamed and yet proud of it at 
the same time. 

“ Let me see,” she said slowly, as if she liked 
to keep Cousin Laura on tender-hooks, 
“Peter sails the day after to-morrow, he’s 


THE SUBJECT OF MY STORY 27 


obliged to go to England very unexpectedly. 
He intended to bring the children here later 
in the summer, but as his plans have been 
changed they will come without him. It’s 
quite time the cousins became acquainted with 
one another; Jack is only a month younger 
than the twins, and Sheila is between Gilbert 
and Margery. They’ve never met since that 
Christmas, you remember, when they were all 
here; I’m sure you didn’t complain of any dis- 
turbance then.” 

“Not then,” Cousin Laura owned darkly; 
“but those precious twins — Phil and Judy — 
were about six, and in the five years that have 
elapsed since they’ve developed unsuspected 
resources of mischief, and so have the others. 
Who would have dreamed then that Baby 
Margery, with her innocent, lovely little face, 
would ever be guilty of such a piece of destruc- 
tiveness as she was the other day?” 

“Oh! the child didn’t mean any real 
harm,” Granny interrupted, “ we exaggerated 
her ” 

“Exaggerated?” snapped Cousin Laura, 
“ I wonder at you! She not only did wrong — 
she meant it, too, and she was let off entirely 


28 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


too easily. But you wouldn’t listen to me. 
You lack firmness. I only hope that a quarter 
of what you say about Jack and Sheila is true, 
for then they may, at least, act as a check on 
the others, though it would be too much to ex- 
pect them to work any great reform.” 

I punched one of the cushions with a noise- 
less fist. How I wished it was Jack Ronald’s 
head! Let him come checking it over me — ^if 
he dared, let him try his reforming! Sheila 
wouldn’t be my quarry, but I meant to warn 
Judy. 

“Well, they are good children — poor, little 
motherless ones,” Granny said thoughtfully, 
“ and the others are dear children, and fairly 
good, too ; a trifie wild, perhaps, because 
they’ve had no school training, but that’s all. 
Probably we were no better when we were their 
age. 

“ I never squeezed currant juice over a frock 
of mine to embellish it, as Margery did,” 
Cousin Laura returned with unnecessary 
spirit; “if I had, I should have been soundly 
punished, I know. My mother was a strict 
woman and she brought up her children so 
they were a glory to her.” 


THE SUBJECT OF MY STORY 29 


And yet you ruined a lot of tomato catsup 
when you were six, by putting salt into it as 
soon as the cook’s back was turned,” Granny 
laughed triumphantly. “I’ve heard the story 
often.” 

“Ah, I thought I was helping,” Cousin 
Laura said in quite a different tone, it had 
more bend to it, somehow; “still that excuse 
didn’t save me from punishment. I was locked 
up for the rest of the day, I remember, and I 
had to learn ‘ The Nightingale and the Glow- 
worm,’ — a very odious poem, my dear. Are 
Jack and Sheila to stay all summer?” 

I leaned closer against the curtain to hear 
Granny’s answer. If there were to be months 
of attempts at checking, I wanted to know it 
at once. 

“Yes,” she replied, “Peter won’t be back 
until the middle of September, then he will 
come here for a short visit and when he returns 
to town he will take the boys with him. He 
has made arrangements for Jack to go to 
the same boarding-school as Phil and Gilbert.” 

Again I hammered the pillow in a dumb 
rage, and something choked in my throat and 
got out before I could strangle it. I thought. 


30 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

then, that it was all up with me and waited with 
a stationary heart. The silence was quite 
creepingly awful for a minute. 

“ Really, Laura,” Granny cried sharply, “ I 
don’t see any occasion to groan like that ” 

“ I didn’t groan,” Cousin Laura declared in 
a great huff. “You’re determined to find 
fault this morning. First it’s sniff, and then 
it’s groan, and I — absolutely innocent of do- 
ing either — as if I would ! I simply moved my 
chair a trifle with no intention of interrupting, 
or commenting upon, your remarks. Natu- 
rally, I’m interested in the stay of these very 
good children, in conjunction with that of 
children who, according to you, are dear and 
good, although I fail to recognize such a de- 
scription of them. But there is little use in 
prolonging our conversation; some other day 
you will tell me, perhaps, if Sheila’s visit has 
a limit or if it is to be a continuous affliction.” 

“I beg your pardon,” Granny said sooth- 
ingly, “but I thought you’d groaned in deri- 
sion. I’m sorry to have offended you. Still, 
if my furniture is going to make a noise like 
that, it’s quite time it was brought to my at- 
tention so that steps may be taken about hav- 


THE SUBJECT OF MY STORY SI 

ing it oiled, or broken up for kindling-wood. 
One thing is certain, nerves cannot be upset 
in this fashion. What were you saying? Oh, 
about Sheila — she’ll be here through October, 
then she’ll join her father in town and go on 
studying with that charming Miss Maitland. 
Tom is going to bring the children to Up- 
lands, and we must keep him some weeks, at 
least.” 

“Tom’s a dear fellow,” Cousin Laura put 
in heartily (I didn’t know she could speak like 
that !) . “ When do they come? ” 

“ Friday afternoon,” Granny answered, 
“and this is Monday. Would you tell Phil 
and the others, or would you keep it as a sur- 
prise?” 

“I wouldn’t tell them a word,” Cousin 
Laura interposed quickly, “they’d be sure to 
do something dreadful the moment your back 
was turned. If you take my advice you’ll 
keep them in irons Friday, so they will present 
a respectable appearance — you can’t have for- 
gotten how they looked when the Grahams 
were here.” 

“After all, it will be jollier for them not to 
know,” Granny went on, as if she hadn’t heard 


32 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


what had been said. “ Surprises are great fun ; 
Til get Cook to help us ” 

“ Us! ” sniffed Cousin Laura. ‘‘ Pray don’t 
include me in your surprises. The only reason 
I suggested secrecy was that Tom might have 
one favorable impression of his nephews and 
nieces, though they must be kept chained until 
after the arrival. Dear me ! I wonder if it is 
ever going to stop raining?” 

Somehow, though I couldn’t see her — ■ 
though I didn’t dare take the least squint — I 
felt that she had got up from her chair, and 
then I knew, just as if there were no curtains 
between us, that she was walking across the 
room. For when people wonder out loud 
about the weather, the next thing they do is 
to look at the sky themselves ; they won’t take 
anyone else’s word for it. So I was done for! 
The window was down on account of the rain, 
it was pretty heavy, too, and if I tried to open 
it, it would probably stick ; but even if it didn’t, 
it would make no end of a racket going up and 
that would give me away. Nothing, then, 
could hide my flying figure. And yet, bad as 
it was, there was the barest chance of escape 
for me. If the other window were nearer. 


THE SUBJECT OF MY STORY QS 


Cousin Laura would stop there ; only I 
couldn’t tell that, because I never once had had 
a glimpse of where she and Granny were sit- 
ting. The heavy rug deadened the sound of 
her footsteps, though I could hear a distinct 
rustling — not of wings (you needn’t think she 
had a pair of those !) , but of a long gown trail- 
ing over the floor, and it came nearer — and 
ever nearer. ... It wasn’t going to the 
other window at all. My time had come! I 
shut my eyes, and took a long breath. 

Then something happened. 

Above that fateful silken rustling, and 
louder than the pounding of my heart, there 
was another sound. It was as if someone had 
jumped to the floor from a little height, and 
had jumped — hard ! With one accord. Granny 
and Cousin Laura shrieked aloud; the sort of 
a shriek that means a bat, or a mouse, or a 
burglar — you don’t know which. In an in- 
stant the bit of purple gown, that had shown 
between the curtains of my hiding-place, 
swooped past like a sail driven by the fury of 
a tempest. I was saved ! Suddenly I seemed 
caught up in some great merry-go-round and 
whirled about till I couldn’t tell my head from 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

my heels. It had all happened so quickly I 
could scarcely believe my good fortune ; then I 
pushed the curtain back a little and peeped out, 
though I might just as well have stepped down 
boldly, because nobody paid any attention 
to me. 

Granny was standing up, newly arisen from 
her chair, gazing for all she was worth at some 
object beyond her, and Cousin Laura had 
borne down upon the object with a day-of- 
reckoning expression written all over her fig- 
ure. Even as I looked, she stretched out a 
white, untrembling hand and clutched the ob- 
ject’s shoulder. I gazed in wonderment, glued 
to the spot as you are in a dream when you 
want to get away from a bull, and cannot. 

There stood Judy, very red in the face — 
with her eyes big, and brown, and shiny, back 
of her spectacles, and her mouth screwed into 
a button. She’d been hiding, too. Afterwards 
she told me that, as soon as Gilbert and Mar- 
gery were deep in their hospital game, she’d 
started off to roust me up, for, of course, she 
suspected where I’d gone. But when she 
peeked at me and saw me fathoms deep in my 
book, she thought it would be a mighty mean 


THE SUBJECT OF MY STORY 35 


trick to play on a fellow — Judy’s a trump, and 
no mistake! — so she got hold of a book herself 
and lay low in the other window, and all would 
have gone well if Granny and Cousin Laura 
had stayed in the Blue room where they be- 
longed. You must know that Judy isn’t one 
of the born kind, either — the eavesdropping 
was forced upon her, too; she simply had to 
stay. She felt it never would do to pop out, 
for frights are bad for ladies’ nerves, she says, 
and she hoped Granny and Cousin Laura 
would go away quickly without discovering 
us; only she trembled like an axle-tree for me 
and for herself all the time. Then when Cousin 
Laura got up to look out at the weather she 
knew I was a goner, and — well, you see — she 
wouldn’t allow that. Judy is like the gallant 
thingumajig who took all the enemy’s spears 
into his own breast to save his comrades. 

“ My dear child,” Granny began slowly, and 
her voice sounded more sorry than angry. 

“Dear child, indeed,” Cousin Laura cut in. 
“Dear child! So it was you. Miss, who 
sniffed, you who groaned— you little, prying, 
meddling busybody ” 

Now, it’s more than flesh and blood can 


36 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


stand to be called names and to be shaken, into 
the bargain, like a limp, backboneless rag when 
you aren’t guilty. But Judy is game through 
and through, so I knew she’d stay mute and 
inglorious like some village Milton; only if 
you think I’d let any one catch it for me — and 
particularly a girl — it shows you don’t know 
me, that’s all! 

‘‘Hands off!” I called loudly. “I’m the 
sniffer, and the groaner.” Then I descended 
from my window-seat, and my descension was 
more upsetting that Judy’s had been. 

Cousin Laura, who was in the midst of giv- 
ing another shake to her victim’s poor, unpro- 
testing shoulder, let go her hold so suddenly 
that she toppled back against the wall, and 
Judy all but sat down on the floor in a hurry; 
while Granny’s chair — or, perhaps, it was 
Granny herself — uttered a queer squeak as she 
leaned heavily against it. Then it grew very 
still — and remained so. 

“ And these are honorable children,” Cousin 
Laura cried at last, “ honor-r-r-able children!” 

I didn’t hke the way she made syllables 
of one word as if she wanted us to spell it, and 
the gargling of the “rs” — there must have 


THE SUBJECT OF MY STORY 37 

been a dozen of ’em — was like the rattle of 
artillery. I could see that Judy was no end 
hurt, but I couldn’t think of a solitary thing 
to say. 

“We came to read,” Judy said softly, look- 
ing over at Granny as if she would understand. 

“And stayed to listen,” Cousin Laura in- 
terrupted. “Well, as I’ve remarked, that pro- 
claims you very hon-or-r-a-ble children.” 

Thumbscrews were mild to her voice, and 
still Gjanny wouldn’t speak. 

“ I’m sure,” Judy faltered, “ we didn’t mean 
any harm, we were both reading when you 
came in, and we couldn’t very easily get out; 
besides, I thought you’d go every moment, and 
I know Phil thought so, too.” 

“Yes I did,” I hastened to add, though 
somehow it sounded rather silly. That word 
honorable had knocked my senses into a cocked 
hat. 

Granny shook her head. 

“ Those are poor excuses,” she said, “ and I 
am astonished and pained at your conduct. 
As it happens. Cousin Laura and I were not 
talking secrets, though it did occur to me to 
keep your cousins’ visit a surprise ” 


38 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


“We won’t breathe it to the others,” I in- 
terposed quickly, “ you can trust us.” 

Cousin Laura gave a nasty laugh, and 
Granny looked at me sadly. 

“ I suppose I might trust you,” she went on, 
“but I refuse to take you into partnership 
with me in this matter ; if I did, it would mean 
that I thought lightly of your actions, which 
is not the case. I’m sure Jack and Sheila 
would never be guilty of such conduct — they 
would know better. You both knew better, as 
I can see by your faces, and that is why I 
can’t excuse you. What! grandchildren of 
mine — eavesdroppers.” 

She straightened herself and all in a mo- 
ment, though she is little compared to Cousin 
Laura, if you could have seen her you’d never 
have thought of inches. Her tallness was of 
another kind, it seemed to fill the room. And 
she said things. Things that hurt — and made 
us feel small, and red, and uncomfortable,, 
though she wasn’t just jawing because she was 
angry. They were solemn things, too, about 
honor — only she didn’t drag out the word 
like Cousin Laura, she said it as if she 
loved it, and wanted us to love it, too. But we 


THE SUBJECT OF MY STORY 39 


did; we’d always loved it. Even in the midst 
of eavesdropping we’d both known the wrong- 
ness of what we were doing; and yet we’d 
gone on listening, making believe to ourselves 
that we had to keep hidden for fear of scaring 
Granny and Cousin Laura, when that was only 
a baby reason, and the real one was wanting 
to hear about the Ronalds kids. Well, there 
are some deeds you can’t explain — ^not even 
to yourself. 

After Granny had finished she stood for a 
moment watching us, and her eyes were very 
sweet and sorry-looking ; I really think she 
meant to send us away then; I’m sure she felt 
we wouldn’t forget in a hurry. But Cousin 
Laura had to put her oar in — she never knows 
when to be through. 

“Now don’t be weak, Janet,” she cried; 
“you can’t afford to let this morning’s scan- 
dalous transaction go unpunished. Re- 
member the other children. You must be 
fir-r-m!” 

Granny got quite red and closed her lips 
tight. She doesn’t like to be interfered with 
• — who does? But it’s worse to be called weak, 
and to be told to be firm in a voice that means 


40 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


you can’t be, no matter how much you try. 
It hurries you into injustices. 

“Children, bring me the books you were 
reading,” she said sharply. 

We did as we were bid and she looked at 
the titles, lifting her eyebrows queerly, then 
she fluttered the leaves for a few minutes, 
until she seemed to decide in her mind what 
to do; after which, she walked to the writing- 
table and took some paper from a drawer. 

“Philip, sit here,” she commanded, “Judith, 
you sit opposite. Now both of you write at 
the top of the page in front of you, ‘Honor 
is the subject of my story.’ Have you written 
that? Yes? Very good. It’s an excellent sen- 
timent, and you will each write it out flfty 
times in your best handwriting. As for these 
books, I shall lock them up, and whether I 
ever let you have them again depends upon 
what your parents say. I think ‘ Monte 
Cristo ’ and ‘Jane Eyre ’ are rather grown-up 
reading for you, still they will decide that 
point.” 

I didn’t dare glance at Judy, but I could 
feel my clothes getting very tight across my 
chest. I was in the most thrilling part of my 


THE SUBJECT OF MY STORY 41 

book, and it was more than humane nature 
could endure without kicking to have it taken 
away. It was pretty tough on poor old Jude, 
too; she was just in the middle of the dandiest 
scene about a crazy woman, she told me after- 
wards. But there was no help for it — we sim- 
ply had to swallow hard and go on writing 
those dreadful words. 

Cousin Laura still gazed at Granny, and 
Granny looked back at her, and her eyes 
snapped. Then she opened her lips again and 
we knew that there was to be more of the pun- 
ishment; it was one of the continuing kind. 

“ I believe you are to have chocolate whips 
for your dinner,” she remarked quietly. “Do 
you care for them?” 

“Well, ra — ather,” I answered, for though 
I saw what was in the wind, I would scorn to 
speak falsely about a favorite. 

“Oh! I adore them,” Judy cried, clutching 
herself over her heart in the foolish way girls 
have. 

Granny laughed grimly. 

“ I’m glad you are both so honest,” she said, 
“though that doesn’t alter my determination. 
You will go without them to-day. I shall give 


43 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

Sophy instructions — no, on second thought, I 
leave this matter entirely to your honor, and 
I feel sure you will obey my wishes. Now, go 
on with your tasks.’’ 

Then she threw back her head and looked 
again at Cousin Laura. And Cousin Laura 
nodded. I suppose even she considered that 
there had been enough firmness for one morn- 
ing. 


CHAPTER III 
Judy’s plan 

We were always glad to make new friends — 
for, as the proverb remarks, ‘‘The more the 
merrier,” and we knew that to be true. Only, 
of course, it depends on what the more are 
like. Certainly, if they’re stupid little beasts 
of children, whose one mission in life is to be 
Checkers and Reformers, then they may be 
more, but they can’t very well be the other 
thing. Judy and I felt this all too darkly, 
though we didn’t shatter the innocent igno- 
rance which Gilbert and Margery displayed. 
Time enough, we thought, for them to learn 
the truth when the Checkers settled down 
among us and tried to begin their checking; we 
determined to let our youngers be light-hearted 
a little longer. 

Granny told them the news the same day 
Judy and I found it out for ourselves, though 
she didn’t say anything about the reforming 
qualities of our blooming young cousins; she 

43 


44 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

just stated facts, and her hearers drank in her 
words with joj^- showing indecently bare on 
their f aces. Margery cried, “ Oh ! how scrump- 
tious! ” in that soft little way she has, and put 
her cheek against Granny’s hand, and Gilbert 
said, “Hooray!” not too loudly, for we were 
all in the drawing-room and he is a most far- 
seeing boy; but Granny heard him and she 
looked contented with two of her grandchil- 
dren, at least. Even when we were upstairs 
in our own quarters again, those kids kept on 
rejoicing — they were honestly glad. Margery 
went about wondering what Sheila looked like 
— as if that made any difference! — and, as if 
our precious cousins were coming the next min- 
ute, she got out her dolls and undressed them 
to their joints, and then togged them up in 
their best clothes, while Gilbert fell to polish- 
ing his things like fury. And all this grubbing 
was for Checkers — for Reformers! 

Judy and I looked grimly on. We’d have 
scorned to bring the least shine to any article 
we owned, or even to have bound up gaping 
wounds. There wasn’t going to be any get- 
ting-ready business on our parts for the new- 
comers if we knew it. Aside from what they 


JUDY’S PLAN 


45 


were — horrid little prigs ! — they’d made us do 
a blushable thing, and remembering it was like 
pressing your fingers on a brand-new bruise 
— you know how that feels! We’d suffered 
enough because of the precious pair and we 
meant they should pay for it. But we knew 
that just at first we must conceal our dark 
intentions behind false and sickly grins and 
keep our iron hands shod in velvet. It wouldn’t 
be easy, still we were sure we could do it, and 
as soon as possible we’d throw away our masks 
and fall on the intruders without any gloves 
at all. 

Friday morning dawned bright and clear, 
and I woke early. There was a sort of tingling 
in the air as if something nice was going to 
happen, though I couldn’t make out what it 
was, as I looked wonderingly about. Gilbert 
was lying on his back, in his own bed, with 
his mouth ajar letting off steam like a good 
fellow, and I got a firm hold of my pillow to 
heave it at him when my eyes lighted on some- 
thing beyond — something I’d forgotten. A 
third bed. And then I knew! And that jolly, 
going-to-happen feeling scuttled off in a jiffy. 
Of course I’d noticed the bed the night before 


46 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


and had fallen asleep thinking about it, but it 
had clean gone from my mind so the sight of 
it in the morning light gave me a queer feel- 
ing at my waist-line. The Checker was to be 
put in our room. Well, it was a big place 
and I couldn’t quarrel with Granny’s arrange- 
ments, no matter how much I hated them. 
She’d given this wing of the house over to us ; 
the girls had a bedroom almost as large as 
ours, with a smaller one opening out of it which 
was to be for the other Reformer; Hannah’s 
diggings were at one end of the hall, beauti- 
fully remote from us, and at the other was the 
big schoolroom where Mother, and Uncle 
Peter, and Uncle Tom had studied and larked 
when they were young uns. We had our meals 
in the breakfast room below, and our own 
stairs went right down to its door. It really 
was like having a house all to ourselves, and 
we four had thought it pretty fine; but some- 
how that bed, with its brass knobs twinkling 
impudently in the sun, made me change my 
mind. 

I glared at it again and the thought of 
doing something to it lifted a load off my 
spirits. If the duffer took the trick well that 


JUDY’S PLAN 


47 


would be a mark to his credit; but if he went 
and blabbed, I’d soon settle him. At any other 
time I’d have let Gilbert into the plan, but he’d 
been so sickeningly glad about Jack’s coming 
that he didn’t deserve it. He might hold off, 
too, and though I knew I could talk him 
around, I decided to attend to affairs by my- 
self. I gripped my pillow tighter. Gilbert 
really did snore too loud; if the other boy 
tried the same game my hands would be full. 

“Shish!” breathed a voice from the door. 

I dropped the pillow like a shot. Th^nk 
goodness, I hadn’t let it fly. Gilbert gave a 
louder snort than ever, though I didn’t stop to 
have it out with him; in a second I was across 
the room at Judy’s side. 

“Isn’t it dreadful that it’s so sunny?” she 
whispered. “I did so long for rain, and see 
what’s happened. I wanted it to pour cats and 
dogs — Oh! wouldn’t it be lovely, Phil, if the 
dear dogs (I don’t care for cats) would fall 
and descend upon this house like the rain did 
upon the houses in the Bible, the ones built on 
the sand, and on the rock? Only I suppose 
they’d all be sky-terriers, and I’m not very 
fond of that kind. Give me foxes, and set- 


48 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

ters, and wire-hairs, and mongrels, and all the 
other darlings. Wouldn’t it be howlingly 
lovely if they’d just come pelting down?” 

“You bet it would,” I answered, then I 
added dolefully, “I say, you’re right, this is 
a beastly day ” 

“No, that’s what the other would have been 
— the one I wanted,” Judy giggled, “the one 
that will never happen if we live to the mill — 
something or other. Of course, I wasn’t goose 
enough to expect it. I’d have been satisfied 
with a nice, steady, sopping rain all day long, 
getting worse about five o’clock so the windows 
of the omnibus would be all spattery and un- 
see-out-able. And it would have been so good 
for the growing things, too. Were you asleep 
when I called?” 

“ Not me,” I growled. “ What do you take 
me for? I haven’t been asleep for ages — I’m 
not like that fellow there — just listen to his 
row. Somehow, I couldn’t sleep.” 

“Neither could I,” sighed Judy. “Come 
along to the schoolroom where we can talk 
things over.” 

She darted down the passageway and I fol- 
lowed at her heels; once in the room we made 


JUDY’S PLAN 


49 


a bolt for the big window-seat, both of us land- 
ing there at the same time. Judy curled her- 
self up at one side and, after I’d raised the 
sash, I plumped down opposite. But we didn’t 
look at each other at first, we just looked out. 
I tell you what, it’s pretty jolly being up in 
the early morning before the day has had a 
chance to get crowded and tired. There’s such 
a spick-span newness about everything, it gets 
under your very skin; and the smells are deli- 
cious, and the birds so tunable. The all of it 
makes you kinder still though, what with look- 
ing, and sniffing, and listening. 

“Hmm! this is better,” Judy said, with a 
long breath, “ rain smells are good, and no mis- 
take, only they can’t hold a candle to these. I 
suppose the rest of the folks will be glad, so 
we must bear up under it. Now, the omnibus 
windows will be open, unless Granny sends 
the wagonette, and that’s more than likely. It 
will come bowling up the drive, and everyone 
will call out to everyone else — — ” 

“ I shan’t be there,” I interposed darkly. 

‘‘Oh, yes, you will,” Judy declared, with a 
positiveness that didn’t become her, “ Granny’ll 
make you. I’m sure she’d be awfully vexed if 


50 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

you even hinted at staying away. No, I s’pect 
we’ll be ‘tethered to a stone’ like the snow- 
white mountain lamb, until afternoon, then 
we’ll be let go and, after we’re dressed up fit 
to kill, we’ll have to wait around on the ve- 
randa to welcome those others.” 

“ What, made into a holy show for those re- 
formers,” I groaned, “I just won’t stand 
it ” 

“You’ll have to,” persisted Judy, shaking 
her head solemnly, her long, brown pig-tails 
waving to and fro; “you’ll have to, and I’ll 
have to — Gilbert and Margery don’t count, be- 
cause they love it — but there we’ll all be nod- 
ding, and grinning, and looking so glad to see 
our new cousins, and Granny and Cousin 
Laura will be back of us, dressed up, too, and 
grinning likewise. It’ll be like having a family 
group taken. Then the carriage will stop and 
Uncle Tom and those others will get out, and 
then there will be kiss ” 

“ Do shut up,” I cried. “ I wish to goodness 
you’d stayed in bed. I can’t imagine why you 
ever came bothering a fellow when your mind 
was filled with such horrid thoughts. But, if 
you think there’ll be any kissing on my part. 


JUDY’S PLAN 


51 


you know nothing about it. Just let anyone 
try — that’s all I have to say. You’ll have to 
kiss, and be kissed, that’s expected; girls al- 
ways do those silly things, but none of that 
for me — thank you.” 

“I won’t do it, either,” Judy retorted, her 
face very red and puckery, “I won’t give a 
kiss of welcome to anybody that I don’t wel- 
come from my innermost soul, and what’s 
more — I won’t take one.” 

“There’s no escape for you,” I continued, 
and I didn’t try to keep my voice from being 
nasty. “ Uncle Tom will kiss you, and 
Granny will tell Jack to, and he’ll do it — one 
of those little pecky kisses that catch you any- 
where, on your nose, or chin, or ear — but prob- 
ably he won’t like it any better than you, and 
Sheila will do it of her own accord. Je-rusa- 
lem! I wouldn’t stay away from a circus like 
that for a kingdom. It will be great nuts.” 

“Whose horrid now?” Judy demanded 
huffily. 

“Well, you began it,” I answered in the 
same key, then we both laughed; we never 
stayed mad very long. But there was a lot 
of uncomfortableness in our laughter, for we 


52 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

knew that much of what had been said would 
have to come true. We sat gazing at each 
other while the morning grew brighter about 
us. 

“I really can’t see that there’s any escape 
for you,” I said gloomily, and this time there 
was nothing in my voice to anger anyone; I 
was truly sorry for her — she couldn’t help 
being a girl. “You’ve just got to grin and 
bear it. Of course, it’s nonsense about my 
kissing Uncle Tom and the kids — polite hand- 
shaking is the ticket, but that’s hard enough 
— considering how I feel toward those little 
beggars. What I hate is this dressing up in 
their honor.” 

“Yes, that’s pretty bad,” Judy agreed, 
“ though it’s far worse for me, as usual; I have 
to be so starched and spandy fresh. Boys never 
look as dressed up as girls, they’re more every- 
dayish, except for their shiny faces and their 
plastered hair. Somehow, company-hair al- 
ways shows more in a boy than in a girl — and 
it’s so unbecoming. But even with that you 

have it easier than we, and especially ” her 

face grew very glum, then all of a sudden it 
lighted up. “ Why, Philip Egerton,” she cried 


JUDY’S PLAN 


53 


triumphantly, ‘‘ you can’t be sure that Granny 
won’t order you to kiss just as she orders Jack, 
you’re only a month older than he ” 

“ She’d better not try,” I interrupted hotly. 

“ And you’ll have to do it,” Judy went on; 
“ you’ll have to give Sheila one of those little 
pecky kisses you know so much about — ^you 
can’t get out of it.” 

“You wait and see. Miss,” I growled, then 
I stepped to the floor. “ Well, I’ve had enough 
of this racket, I’m off to dress,” I said, moving 
dignifledly away from the window, but Judy 
pulled me back by the sleeve of my pyjamas. 

“Don’t be cross, Phil,” she urged, “you 
know in your heart she might order it.” 

My heart and I were very conscious to what 
lengths even the best grandmothers may go, 
which probably accounted for the lowness of 
my spirits. And flat rebellion wouldn’t save 
me. I knew that, just as I also knew that I 
would have to be one of the welcomers; 
Granny would consider any absence at such a 
time a slight to her guests. Now, it’s rather 
a strange thing that though I hated — 
HATED — having those Checkers come, I 
wouldn’t have missed their arrival for a good 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

deal. And Judy owned up to this, too. In 
the early morning you have to be honest — ^you 
can’t help it. So that’s how it was with us 
both, only, if we could have looked on without 
being seen ourselves, we’d have liked that bet- 
ter; but instead, we were doomed to take part 
in the general hullabaloo. I hadn’t dreamed of 
kissing that strange, reforming girl though, 
until Judy put it into my head, and the idea 
was like wormwood to me, which, they say, is 
both tough and bitter. Jack was beside the 
question. No grandmother in the world would 
tell one boy to kiss another, especially if they 
wrote their ages with two figures, so I was 
safe there. It was just that Sheila kid I had 
to think of. And suddenly I felt that Judy’s 
fate and mine were unescapable. I looked 
at her — quite wordless, 

“I’m not going to do it,” she whispered, 
after a moment, very decidedly. “ I shan’t do 
it, and they won’t do it to me, either, not one 
of them — not even Uncle Tom.” 

I didn’t say anything, at least with my lips. 

“Well, I shan’t,” she said again, “I’ll have 
a toothache.” 

“ That won’t let you off,” I sniffed. 


JUDY’S PLAN 


55 


“Mine will,’’ she declared, without getting 
a bit mad. “ I’ll look worse than scream- 
ing. They’ll just shake hands with me and say 
they’re sorry, and they’ll all think me a regular 
hero — well, shero, if you like that any better — 
to stand there so uncomplaining, trying to take 
part in the gay and giddy scene. And all the 
while your sister will be laughing in her sleeve 
at fooling them so nicely.” 

I stared wonderingly at her, as she continued 
to wag her head. 

“Does it ache now?” I demanded. 

“ No,” she answered, getting down from her 
place, “but it will begin right after breakfast, 
just a tiny ache before Gilbert and Margery, 
so as to pull the wool over their eyes. I’ll stay 
quiet all morning, then after dinner the real 
misery will come on — the groaning kind, and 
the swelling — a wad of paper will do, or some- 
thing round — they won’t have time then to 
send me into town to the dentist’s.” 

“You can’t come it over them,” I inter- 
rupted, “they’ll want to look for themselves.” 

“No they won’t, if I say it hurts too much,” 
Judy giggled, “ I’m not afraid. It’s to be the 
far-backest tooth — but, if they insist on look- 


56 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

ing, I’ll pull my cheek out myself and they 
won’t see what’s made it swell.” 

She strutted off to the door, trailing her 
pink wrapper by one of its sleeves far behind 
her, and putting on a lot of swagger. 

“I’ll have my head tied up in a bandage,’' 
she added, smiling at the picture. “ That will 
make an Object of Pity out of me, and it will 
look so nice and hi jus I shan’t mind the best 
clothes at all. Oh! I’ve quite decided.” 

I stood still — gaping at her, lost in admira- 
tion of her scheme. 

“ Don’t you want to do it, too? ” she coaxed. 
“It’ll be lots jollier if you will. And any- 
way ” she paused a moment, then she added 

meaningly, “ Granny really may — you know.” 

I knew. Besides, there was much in her idea 
that pleased me. It was bully. Still I must 
have a care. One swelled face might pass, 
where two would start questions in the breasts 
of others — especially Cousin Laura’s. But 
Judy wouldn’t see that. She was sure two per- 
sons might easily have the toothache at the 
same time, and she went on to point out that 
all over the world many people must have 
swelled faces when others did, for misery loves 


JUDY’S PLAN 


57 


company, Duke says, and is often very catch- 
ing. She was willing to run the risk. I had to 
be quick about making up my mind; it was 
growing late, and the others would soon he 
up. If Judy and I had toothaches together we 
mustn’t appear to be conspirators, and the 
same was true if she were the only sufferer. 
She knew her secret was safe with me if I 
didn’t join her, but the more I thought of the 
plan, the more I wanted to take part in it. 
We stood whispering a few minutes longer; 
then we parted and went back to our rooms. 

Gilbert was fast asleep, though not as noisily 
as before, but he waked as I crept into bed. 
Instantly he sat up grinning widely. 

“Hullo!” he shouted. “Avast there, my 
hearty, it’s time to be stirring. Isn’t it bully 
that it’s such a fine day?” 

“Do leave a fellow alone,” I groaned from 
the depths of my pillow. “And stop your 
racket. I’ve got an awful pain in one of my 
grinders.” 

“Oh! I say now, isn’t that too bad?” he 
cried, and his voice sounded truly sorry. “ And 
to-day of all days! Is it a waggly one?” 

“ No, it isn’t,” I roared savagely. “ See here^ 


58 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

you keep your oar out of this. You under- 
stand? I don’t want to be trotted off to the 
dentist, if I can help it.” 

He sat staring at me for a full minute, 
shaking his head like a Chinese mandolin. 

“ Well, I should think not,” he declared with 
a whistle. “But you needn’t worry, red-hot 
pinchers won’t draw it from me.” 


CHAPTER IV 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE REFORMERS 

Our toothaches slowly but steadily grew 
worse. The greater part of the morning Judy 
lay curled up on the lounge on the veranda 
just outside of the Blue room, looking limp 
and languish (somehow a girl can go to pieces 
easier than a boy) . She had the place to her- 
self, for Granny had been called away and 
we were allowed to sit there if we were quiet. 
Judy had a book, though she took no interest 
in it; oftenest she lay still, gazing at the trees, 
and pretty nearly always with her hand against 
her pillowed cheek. A wad of cotton was 
rammed half in her ear, and a camphorated 
smell, mingled with oil of wintergreen, arose 
from her couch of pain. Margery, chock-full 
of fear lest Judy should be hustled off to the 
dentist’s, kept bringing different remedies hid- 
den in her dress to the sufferer, who bore all 
such attentiveness with a sweet and gentle 
patience which Margery ought to have seen 

59 


60 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


through, only she was so excited about the 
afternoon’s performance that she didn’t. 

It was a piping hot day and after twelve 
o’clock there was no danger of a journey into 
town, so about that time more open symptoms 
appeared in the shape of some heart-wringing 
“ Oh! dears,” which Judy let escape her parted 
lips, when she was supposed to think she was 
all alone. Now, as everyone knows, a single 
“Oh! dear,” murmured in private is worth a 
dozen shouted, in the public eye. Cousin Laura 
was evidently of that opinion, too; she had 
been writing letters at Granny’s desk and when 
the maiden uttered her cry of woe she came 
right to one of the windows and stood looking 
out at the writhing form. I knew that, be- 
cause I was peeking through the vines waiting 
my turn to come on the scene; and Judy knew, 
for, you see, she’d known all along who was in 
the room behind her. But she gave no sign. 
She just ejaculated a miserabler, longer- 
drawn-out “ Oh ! dear,” half into the pillow, 
and that did the business. Cousin Laura hur- 
ried out at once. 

“What’s the matter, child?” she asked 
quickly, but not unkindly. 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE REFORMERS 61 

Judy started up quite wildlike, as if some- 
thing had gone off unexpectedly under the 
couch. 

“Nothing, Cousin Laura,” she stuttered, 
“ nothing, only a teeny toothache that will go 
away soon, I guess.” 

“You poor little thing,” Cousin Laura 
cried. “ Have you had it long?” 

“Not very long,” Judy answered, making 
her voice very brave and polite, “ pretty nearly 
all morning, but not long, thank you. It’ll be 
better soon.” 

“You must have some menthol immedi- 
ately,” Cousin Laura declared. “ Hm! you’ve 
been using camphor — I thought I smelled it — 
well, camphor’s no good, menthol is much bet- 
ter. I really think your face is swollen, child. 
Let me see where the trouble is.” 

“It’s more feelable, than seeable,” Judy 
groaned, “it’s so sensatif inside.” She stag- 
gered to her feet and opened her mouth, hold- 
ing the cheek back with her thumb and fore- 
finger. I shook in my shoes as Cousin Laura, 
with her stick-glasses held close to her eyes, 
bent down and peered into the cavernous 
depths. It was a perilous moment; then the 


62 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


danger passed, and I breathed freely once 
more. Cousin Laura dropped her glasses. 

‘‘NTo, I can’t see a thing,” she said. “Are 
you sure it’s that upper tooth? Well, well, 
there must be some reason to account for the 
swelling, but now you won’t have so much pain. 
You’re a good, brave child, and the first thing 
in the morning we’ll go to Dr. Perry — it’s too 
late to-day. I’ll ring for the menthol, and your 
grandmother has some toothache drops, so we’ll 
see if we can’t make matters a little easier.” 

She bustled away, and really, she didn’t seem 
a bit bad sort; which only shows that people 
are made up of lots of different parts, like the 
dissected pictures, and they aren’t all one color, 
so if you don’t like them for the whole, you 
can care for certain spots. When she came 
back she insisted on Judy’s lying down again, 
and fixed things comfy with her very own 
hands and a hot- water bag. Then she went off 
to her letters, and as soon as the coast was 
clear I came on deck. 

Judy said afterwards that I looked agonies, 
and I knew I did, for I’d been practicing the 
morning long. I sat down near her and dabbed 
my face with the menthol, purposely letting 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE REFORMERS 63 

some of it get into my eye. It smarted, I can 
tell you, but it made my expression more 
pained and bleary, so I didn’t mind. Then I 
used the toothache drops — horrid tasting things 
they were, too! — and I tried to cheer Judy, be- 
cause, as I remarked (this was said very out 
loud that it might be heard), we were two of 
a kind. And so Granny and Cousin Laura 
discovered when they joined us just before 
their luncheon. They never suspected us a 
minute, and it was worse than having teeth 
pulled — almost ! — to have them so tender- 
hearted, and so getting-in-the-way-of -each- 
other in their attentions. We hadn’t dreamed 
they would tumble so easily. But they just 
heaped cartloads of burning coals on our heads. 
I will pass over our feelings. Well, it was 
those Checkers who’d made us stoop to deceit — 
I hope you see that as plainly as we did. 

We went off to our dinner and tried to eat 
bravely, as we’d been ordered. It was not a 
difficult matter. Sophy’s thoughts were else- 
where, and Gilbert and Margery were so well 
taken in they never doubted us; besides, they 
were jabbering lickety-split about the prepara- 
tions. They’d watched the running up of the 


64 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


big flag in honor of the guests (though those 
Ronalds kids needn’t get swelled heads over 
thatj it was up for us!), they’d tagged every- 
where at the servants’ heels, and they’d even 
crept into Cook’s quarters, as polite as you 
please, just to see what was for our supper. 
She was in a good temper — which was well for 
them! — so they came away from that visit quite 
satisfied — outside and in. All this they told us 
over and over, and we hadn’t a word to say. 
Remorse was beginning to nibble at our vital 
parts as the vulture did at the Spartan boy’s. 
But we’d started out to do the thing and we 
had to carry it through, only it wasn’t as much 
fun as we’d expected. It was such baby work 
tricking them all. Still, we couldn’t draw back 
— it was too late. At least there wouldn’t be 
any kissing business for — as Judy whispered — 
looks might be as catching as some fevers and 
if that were so, people would steer pretty clear 
of us. 

You’d have thought they would, if you 
could have seen us when we joined the other 
Welcomers. They were in their Sunday best, 
and so were we, but while merriment sparkled 
in their eyes (like the girl’s in Bingen on the 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE REFORMERS 65 

Rhine) , pain was written in big letters all over 
our faces. We both wore bandages passed un- 
der our chins and fastened on top of our heads 
with up-standing ends. Hannah had made 
them lie flat, though we’d soon rescued them 
from that fate. I was bad enough, but Judy 
touched the highest notch of awfulness, for, 
besides her protubering cheek, she’d chosen to 
wear her spectacles. Granny gave us one look 
as we took our places, then she walked to the 
far end of the veranda and stood gazing off 
at the view with her back turned to us. Cousin 
Laura didn’t budge; she just held her glasses 
up to her eyes and stared, and kept on staring, 
until I thought she’d found out our little game. 
Even my feet got cold. 

“ It is most peculiar,” she murmured at last, 
‘‘ really, most peculiar.” 

Then Granny came back. 

“ I’d no idea the swelling would increase so,” 
she said, with lots of feeling in her voice, “ I 
never saw anything like it. Are you sure that 
you want to remain here, children? Because 
if you don’t, you may go upstairs ; you needn’t 
meet your cousins till you look more like your 
natural selves.” 


66 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

Judy’s face fell, I mean the part of it that 
could fall — did, and her eyes grew very beseech- 
ing. 

“ There, there, my dear, you shall both stay,” 
Granny cried hastily. “If you and Phil don’t 
mind, I’m sure the others won’t, and it may 
serve to break the ice. I’ve half a mind, Laura, 
to telephone for Dr. Grantley to come right 
over.” 

“Oh! Granny,” I interposed thickly, and as 
quickly as I dared, “ I don’t believe the swell- 
ing will swell any more, it ain’t so hard, 
somehow. I guess it looks worse than it 
feels now. The ache part has gone, for one 
thing.” 

“ It’s a pity the other part didn’t go first,” 
Cousin Laura said, dropping her glasses, “I 
don’t know what the effect will be on your 
uncle.” 

“ Here they are! ” shouted Gilbert and Mar- 
gery from the drive, then they raced back and 
took their stand in the foremost place, laugh- 
ing, waving, shouting, and the next moment 
the carriage rolled up to the door. The Re- 
formers had arrived. 

Out sprang Uncle Tom, and as soon as he 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE REFORMERS 67 

had jumped down a small girl, with goldy-red 
hair and a grinning face, he made a bolt up the 
steps and caught Granny in his great arms. 
He seemed so glad to see her, and she seemed 
so extra glad to see him as she clung to him 
and kissed him again, and again, that we could 
only look on quite wordless, while the gladness 
sank right into our hearts. And after she let 
him go he actually put his arms around Cousin 
Laura and kissed her, too, as if he liked her. 
In the meantime. Granny hugged the Sheila 
kid, then she held her off a little way and 
peered at her, and then she hugged her again; 
presently she turned the checking one around 
as if she were a teetotum, and said : 

‘‘ Sheila love, this is Margery, yes, you must 
kiss each other; and here is poor, dear Judy, 
with a toothache, and this is Philip — a sufferer, 
too. Shake hands, children — that’s right. 
Now, Gilbert, you come and kiss your 
cousin.” 

And Gilbert, smirking like a heathen Chinee 
— ^without even a murmurous look, did as he 
was told; and what’s more, he didn’t seem 
to mind it in the least — he’s such a gander! So 
you see what would have been expected of me 


68 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


— what terrible fate would have been mine, 
if it hadn’t been for Judy’s beautiful scheming 
nature. 

“ Why, where’s Jack all this while? ” Granny 
demanded. 

“ Here I am,” piped a thin voice, half wog- 
glish, and half blustering. I’d my opinion of 
the fellow on the moment. 

Granny gave a little scream, which Cousin 
Laura echoed — only more so. 

“Another!” she cried. 

She had been standing in front of me, but 
surprise, or something else, made her move 
back suddenly — and the Reformer was re- 
vealed. He was about my size, which was as 
it should be, if there were any questions to 
be settled between us; that much I saw before 
Granny’s arms hid him from view, and yet, 
just as they closed about his unresisting form, 
I noticed one other thing — a handkerchief was 
bound tightly around his head. But bandages, 
no matter what — or where — they are, are never 
proof against grandmothers; if he’d counted 
on being let off there, he was pretty well sold. 

“Another!” Cousin Laura cried again. 
“ An Infant Asylum was bad enough, and so 



"ANOTHER!” SHE CRIED 









THE ARRIVAL OF THE REFORMERS 69 

I told you, Janet Ronalds, but a hospital is 
ten times worse.” 

Uncle Tom glanced around quickly and 
gathered in her meaning. He had kissed Mar- 
gery, and I’d noticed with relief that he’d 
shaken hands with Gilbert, as man to man, 
which showed his sense, but now he turned and 
saw Judy for the first time. And he looked her 
up and down for a long, wordless moment. 
She was a show! Then he caught sight of 
me and suddenly his face grew red — and red- 
der — and there was a noise as of choking in 
his throat. He couldn’t deceive me, though 
he got the better of it almost at once. 

“Does it begin with ‘M,’ little maid?” he 
asked, as he shook hands with his suffering 
young niece. 

“No, it isn’t mumps,” Judy answered, she’s 
so quick you can’t often catch her. “ It begins 
with ‘T,’ thank you.” 

“And you, young man,” he went on, holding 
out his other hand to me, “ so you couldn’t rout 
the enemy either? But what’s an ache — more, 
or less — to the valiant-minded? Here’s an- 
other uncomplaining hero. I trust you’ll ‘ open 
the ring and let him in,’ as the song says. A 


70 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

cinder, wanting to set up a modest establish- 
ment of its own, ‘ located ’ in his eye, and that’s 
why your Uncle Peter’s son comes among you 
like one returning from the wars. Here, sir, 
embrace your cousins — oh! figuratively, my 
boy, figuratively — don’t be alarmed. They’ve 
some respect for the trappings of woe. Birds 
of a feather may safely fiock together.” 

The reformer, very crimson and hot to look 
at, joined us and Judy gave him a limp hand, 
which he shook without any ginger in his 
grasp. She stared at him with all her might, 
not speaking at all, then she petered out and 
did the unexpected — just like a girl! 

“ I’m so sorry it hurts you,” she said softly. 

“Oh! there’s nothing the matter with me 
now,” he answered, brisking up almost pleas- 
antly, “ I winked the thing right out, though, 
of course, a fellow has to be careful where his 
eye is concerned— light’s bad for it, you know. 
But I say, you look like time!” He stopped 
suddenly and turned my way; as we shook 
hands with some show of friendliness, he ac- 
tually had the sand to put his tongue into his 
cheek. 

“ See here,” he said in a low voice that only 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE REFORMERS 71 

Judy and I could catch, “those bumps are 
really too bumptious, and they’ve woggled 
twice. You don’t take me in by a long shot. I 
bet I know what you both got up the dodge 
for.” 

We wouldn’t parley with such a person and 
moved back from him in scorn, but I was glad 
I’d fixed his bed pie-fashion. That thought 
consoled me, even as the dire peril closed round 
about us, for we were at his mercy. The 
next moment, however, I saw that, whatever 
else he might be, he wasn’t a tell-tale. Judy 
drew a long breath. 

“It takes a thief to catch a thief,” the re- 
former whispered quickly. “ I’m sure you did 
it for the same reason that I tied on this beastly 
handkerchief — relations ask altogether too 
much of a fellow, though I don’t see just where 
you come in,” he looked pointedly at Judy. 
“ Well, never mind,” he went on, “ Uncle Tom 
told you to let me into your ring, and I guess 
you’d better — I know what I’m talking about, 
and what’s more. I’ll bet he does, too.” 

Judy glared at the speaker, then she looked 
past him at Uncle Tom, and I looked, too. 
The next second she ran over to Granny, 


72 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

whispered something in her ear, and was off 
like a shot. 

“iThe poor, dear child,” Granny cried, 
“she’s been so brave and uncomplaining the 
whole day, and there’s no pain so hard to bear 
as the toothache.” 

I waited anxiously in the little hush that fol- 
lowed, wondering if I ought to speak, but Un- 
cle Tom, evidently thinking my looks did that 
for me, broke the silence. 

“You’re right. Mother mine,” he said, 
“‘there was never yet philosopher that could 
endure the toothache patiently.’ ” 


CHAPTER V 

THE POET OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 

A HALF hour after Sheila and Margery met 
they were chattering away as fast as light- 
ning, with their arms round each other’s waists 
and long before they went to bed they’d ex- 
changed rings and vowed vows of never-end- 
ing friendship. That’s Margery all over, and 
Sheila is just such another 1 She steered clear 
of Judy, though, as if she couldn’t quite get 
over the shock her looks had given her on ar- 
riving. She’d hardly had the decency then to 
shake hands with her, and she didn’t seem 
sorry by a long shot. She was just dying to 
laugh. Well, I really couldn’t blame her! 

By supper- time Judy and I were pretty sick 
of the tied-up-ness of our faces which we’d en- 
dured patiently for hours. It was a hot, per- 
spiratious night, and the bandages didn’t make 
us feel comfy. Far from it. Still, there was 
no knowing if the grown-ups would want to 
see us again, or not, so we didn’t dare do 

73 


74 . 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


away with the outer signs of our suiFering; 
the inner we got rid of by degrees, till the 
swelling had entirely vanished from our glow- 
ing cheeks. No one noticed our ordinary flat- 
ness, however, as we took our places at table, 
except Jack — and he winked understandingly 
at us. But he didn’t count. His own bandage 
was pushed back from his damp and noble 
brow, and he was seeing out of both eyes as 
well as ever. Why should we fear him? He 
was one of us, though there had been no chang- 
ing ring business, you can better believe. He 
might be a reformer in other directions, but 
not in this particular one, and we breathed 
freely. It was not a long breath. Sophy had 
just brought in a huge white cake, glistening 
with that delicious, melt-in-your-mouth-in-a- 
minute frosting, with the word “Welcome” 
done in pink letters on the top, and had placed 
it in front of Sheila, whereupon we had all 
shouted as one man, and then — the blow fell! 

Above our screaming came the sound of 
grown-up laughter, and there at the door stood 
Granny, and Cousin Laura, with Uncle Tom 
gazing over their shoulders. They’d stopped 
on theil way to their own dinner, and the table 


POET OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 75 

did look so pretty. Granny had let Sophy 
fix it extra scrumptious with some elderly 
things, and we had “ oh’d,’’ and “ ah’d,” when 
we first caught sight of the pink trimmings, 
and the little stuck-out pink shades on the 
candles that made the light rosy as it came 
through them and fell on the flowers, and on 
the fruit, and candy, in the low silver dishes. 
There was a mirror at one side of the room in 
which we could see the table reflected clearly 
with the six of us gathered round the festive 
board, happy, and careless, and unrecking, 
aught of intruders. 

All in a jiffy my heart sank right down into 
my shoes and I knew Judy’s had gone ker- 
flump, too, for I heard her give a shuddery 
gasp. Then she was still. Very. Somehow, 
I couldn’t think clearly, but part of me was 
glad that we had had the sense to stick to our 
banda*ges. Uncomfortable as mine was, I 
fairly loved its damp folds, though I didn’t 
dare draw it closer over my shrunken face, for 
I presented a front view to our visitors. And 
so did Judy. If they noticed any falling-off 
in our looks, however, they said nothing; they 
had come to praise, and to be pleased, and they 


76 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


didn’t leave for some minutes. When, at last, 
they did move away they left bitterness behind 
in the breasts of a few of our number. It was 
Granny who did it — smiling, tender-hearted 
Granny. She had evidently been told to be 
“firm.” 

“ No, Sheila dear,” she said gayly. “ I won’t 
have any of the cake, thank you, though it 
looks delicious and plummy, and I hope you 
will all enjoy it.” Here she paused, and met 
the eyes of two of her grandchildren, who shall 
be nameless; hers were not the first to fall. 
Then she went on in the same jolly voice: “I 
didn’t mean all. Phil and Judy, you will have 
to go without your share to-night on account 
of those poor aching teeth of yours, and you 
mustn’t touch any of the other sweets, not even 
the ice-cream for the same reason. You under- 
stand? To-morrow we’ll see Dr. Perry about 
the trouble.” 

“I think. Granny,” Jack put in boldly, in 
the dreadful stillness that followed, “ I think I 
hadn’t better eat any of those things either — 
not even the cake of welcome.” 

Granny turned on him in astonishment. 

“ Why, my dear boy,” she cried, “ I’ve heard 


POET OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 77 

that cinders were bad for cake, but never be- 
fore that cake was bad for cinders. Still, you 
probably know your own case best, so you must 
judge for yourself.” 

“ Well, I’m very sure I hadn’t ought to eat 
what Phil and Judy mustn’t,” Jack declared 
in a firm voice, “and I won’t.” 

“And thou too, Brutus,” laughed Uncle 
Tom. 

Then the truth dawned slowly upon Granny. 
You could see it growing in her face — and I 
thought the beginning of a smile trembled 
about her lips, though she went away so quickly 
I couldn’t be certain. For a minute we three 
bandaged ones didn’t so much as glance at one 
another, while the rest of the kids were mute 
■ — on account of surprise and cake. Judy was 
the first to move; she jumped up, almost over- 
turning her chair in her hurry, and I followed 
her example, though more dignifiedly. 

“You kids can go on stuffing down sweet 
things,” I said coldly, “ but I’m going to clear 
out. Only remember, there are other aches be- 
sides the toothache, so I warn you to stop in 
time.” 

I tore the bandage from my face as I fin- 


78 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


ished speaking, and flung it far from me. Han- 
nah had earlier put a hot potato in its folds to 
ease my swollen jaw, and now the white mass 
scattered over the floor like a snow-storm. I 
dodged quickly to avoid Sophy’s wrath, and 
Jack came pelting close at my heels. It was 
pretty square of him to give up the best part 
of the grub, and it wasn’t altogether necessary. 
There really had been a cinder in his eye, and 
though he’d winked it out almost directly and 
had only been suffering from a memory for 
reasons of his own, his pretense wasn’t so pre- 
tentious, nor so deeply dyed as ours. Judy 
and I never dreamed of his sharing the same 
punishment with us, which shows you cannot 
always tell the best in humane nature at a 
glance. But he needn’t have done it. His se- 
cret was safe with us. Besides, the feast was 
as much in his honor as in Sheila’s, though, 
when we pointed this out to him afterwards, he 
said he knew it, and that was the principal rea- 
son why he hadn’t stayed. The stuff would 
have choked him. 

The next morning the three of us woke to 
an absolutely unaching world, but something 
Gilbert said at the breakfast-table brought 


POET OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 79 

Judy and me up short and made us look glumly 
at each other. Pleasant as the day was, it was 
also a day of reckoning and a dark cloud hung 
over our guilty heads. Granny, backed by 
Cousin Laura, would be as good — or as bad 
— as her word. We felt in the very marrow of 
our souls that there was no escaping farther 
injustices. Where was the use then of plan- 
ning any fun for the morning when it would 
have to be spent far otherwise? What Gilbert 
had said was this : 

“ Do you think you’ll get any chink for it? ” 
And instantly Sheila, with a silly grin that 
showed little thought on her part for anybody, 
leaned forward and asked unfeelingly; “Is it 
a jiggling one, or a stick-tight? ” 

I wanted to say “ Shut up ” to her, but as 
the newness of her coming was still so fresh, 
I said it to Gilbert instead, in savage tones, and 
let her see it in my eyes. She understood right 
away and took a hasty swallow of water, quirk- 
ing her little finger out from her glass in a 
foolish fashion, while Margery, who was on her 
side, of course, rushed into the breach. 

“Open your mouth a little wider, Master 
Philip,” she giggled, “a lit-tle wider.” 


80 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


I tossed back my head in lofty scorn and said 
nothing, but Judy shuddered all over. It wasn’t 
put on, either. She’s no end plucky about al- 
most everything, and yet, there is a yellow 
streak of cowardice mingling in her otherwise 
brave young blood, as far as the dentist is con- 
cerned. She owns up to it with an unblushing 
mien (whatever that is, it’s in a lot of books). 
The terrors of the Spanish Imposition are pale 
nothings, she says, compared to that other tor- 
ture. 

‘‘Jack’s made some poetry about the den- 
tist,” Sheila cried proudly. She seemed quite 
satisfied with her champion’s efforts, and was 
ready to bury the hatchet. “ You really ought 
to hear it, it’s so — so ” 

“Oh! do you do it, too?” Judy broke in 
eagerly, forgetting all about the prospect in 
store for her, now that she knew a brother poet 
was among us. “ Do please say it.” 

Jack got fiery red and tried to wither Sheila 
with a stern glance, but she was unwitherable 
— sisters often are! — and only shook her head 
until every curl bobbed in a little dance of its 
own. 

“ If you won’t, I will,” she declared. 

“Come, come,” I cut in, “you’re among 


POET OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 81 


friends. Speak up, old chap, have no fear.” I 
purposely made my voice as hearty as possible, 
though interiorly I couldn’t help wondering 
how anyone with a soul for poetry could pick 
out such a subject to write about. 

“Ah! do,” breathed Margery, and Gilbert, 
who could go where he chose the whole morning 
long, called to him to fire ahead. 

Well, a fellow couldn’t stay bashful after 
all that urging, so Jack rose to his feet and 
struck an attitude. 

“ It’s only a simple heartfelt lay,” he began 
modestly, “ but here goes: 


** Looking with gravity 
For any cavity — 

Little or big; 

Though you feel mutinous, 

He*s got to be scrutinous. 

His work is to dig. 

Oh! Ow! 

** In he pokes boldly. 

No matter how coldly 
You glare in his face. 

Then, when you give a 
Right up-from-your-heels shiver. 
He hits on the place. 

O-oh ! ! Ow-w ! I! ** 


82 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

He sat down and we cheered him to the echo. 
Even if we hadn’t liked it, we’d have cheered 
him. That was our custom. We always en- 
courage the doer, because — you know — ^it’s 
something to do what you can, although it 
mayn’t be much, and we never let anyone feel 
uncomfortable at such times. It’s more ter- 
rible to have your feelings fall flat as a floun- 
derer, than to have your body sink pronely to 
earth; your body can scramble up the quickest, 
somehow. 

“Young man,” I cried, when the din of ex- 
clamations had died down, “ there’s both truth 
and poetry in what you say ” 

“It — it sounds like something I’ve heard,” 
interrupted Judy. “Oh! dear, I don’t mean 
that it isn’t your own. Jack, every bit your 
own. I know it is, only there’s such a familiar- 
ness about it, and that’s why it seems as if I 
must have heard it somewhere.” 

Jack glowered gloomily before him. He 
was as mad as hops, and it really was too bad 
of Judy to let her tongue run away with her 
like that. You couldn’t blame Jack for being 
angry — ^no one could. We others were dumb 
with confounding thoughts. It was a time of 


POET OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 83 


great seriousness. Then Sheila, who’d been 
breathing like a porpoise, leaned across the 
table; two bright-red spots burned in her 
cheeks, and her hand was raised in a way that 
showed if she was a Checker, she’d certain 
ideas on the subject that were not unknown 
elsewhere. 

“ Do you mean to say my brother is a copy- 
cat?” she hissed. “Because I can tell you he 
isn’t; he’d scorn to be one. You’d better take 
that back mighty quick, Judy Egerton.” 

“I haven’t anything to take back,” Judy 
snapped. “ I didn’t say he was a copier. I 
didn’t mean that for a moment, and I’m aw- 
fully proud that he’s my very own first cousin. 
I like the verses, too, they’re so stayable in the 
mind ; though all the same they really 


She stopped, and I trembled at what was 
coming next. Sheila’s hand was still raised, 
and I knew Judy well enough to feel she 
wouldn’t desert her guns if she thought she 
was in the right. She’s sometimes uncomfort- 
able that way. 

“Oh!” she cried, all in a breath, “how stu- 
pid I’ve been. I know now why those verses 


84 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


didn’t seem quite new to me. It’s because 
we’ve all been there ourselves.” 

Sheila settled back in her chair nodding con- 
tentedly, and Jack looked more comfortable 
right away, as if his wounded breast was 
healed once more. 

‘‘You can bet we’ve all been there,” Gil- 
bert chimed in, wagging his head wisely, 
though his voice sounded unpleasantly jolly. 
He never lived in the past, and the near future 
held no terrors for him. “I think Jack’s 
poetry is prime — it comes so from the 
heart.” 

“Yes,” I agreed dolefully, “it does, and 
that shows it’s been lived through. It’s dread- 
fully natural. And the familiarness Judy no- 
ticed is the voice of experience — ^the grown-ups 
are always talking about it — speaking to us. I 
tell you what, old chap, you must copy off the 
verses so I can send them out to Father.” 

“Hear, hear!” cried Judy and Margery to- 
gether, drumming on the table with their 
knives and forks and making no end of a clat- 
ter. Sheila’s smiles came out in all their glory, 
and Jack swelled like a turkey-cock, though 
I must say he tried his best not to show the 


POET OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 85 

deepness of his feelings, which made him rather 
red and giggly. Yet it was a hard position and 
I couldn’t blame the boy. One cloud, at least, 
had rolled away from our breakfast-table, the 
other still hung darkly o’er Judy’s head and 
mine, and we could take but a half-hearted 
pleasure in the din around us. The poetry cast 
us down more than the others supposed; it 
touched us too nearly. 

Sophy had been in and out from the pan- 
try a dozen times or more, not bringing new 
dishes but merely looking, and each time she 
seemed less at peace with us, and more sorry 
for herself. It isn’t a pleasant expression, still 
it often comes on servants’ faces. We couldn’t 
be blind any longer to such speaking glances; 
they simply drove us from the table. The 
other kids ran helter-skelter out to the lawn, 
but Judy twitched my sleeve and I stayed be- 
hind with her. Anyone, with half an eye, could 
have seen by her solemn looks that she had 
something impartable on her mind. 

“What is it?” I asked after a minute, for 
we really couldn’t hang around any longer. 
There was no knowing when Sophy, who was 
stumping angrily about, would brush us out 


86 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

of the room as she was brushing the flies. 
“What’s the racket now?” 

“Oh! Phil,” Judy cried, “I’m going to find 
Granny and throw myself at her feet — the way 
they do in books — and tell her everything.” 

“That’s all nonsense,” I growled, “you’ll 
just have your trouble for your pains. She 
won’t listen to us.” 

“Us!” broke in Judy. “Why, you won’t 
have to go — it’s only me. The toothache was 
all my idea. I’ll tell Granny the truth, and 
then, if she won’t let us both off, she’ll have to 
let you, because she really tries to be fair.” 

“No, no,” I returned gloomily, “share and 
share alike is our motto. If you’re set on this 
seeking-out business, of course I’m your man, 
though perhaps it would be best for us to lie 
low and let the grown-ups do the seeking.” 

J udy shuddered all over and shook her head 
mournfully. “I couldn’t enjoy a single 
breath,” she declared, “ what with thinking that 
at any moment I might be trotted off to the 
dentist, though there’s no reason why we should 
be taken to him for a make-believe. Anyone 
would feel that. Not him, of course, he’d say 
he’d just take a look to be or the safe side. And 


POET OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 87 

then he’d do it — oh! you know how. Why, it 
wasn’t so long ago that I went to him anyway, 
and he was dreadfully “ scrutinous ” — up and 
down, and all around — poking something ter- 
rible, but he didn’t find a fillable thing, and 
yesterday’s ache was all put on. I do hope 
Granny will understand.” 

I hoped so, too, though neither of us could 
tell. It was just the sort of a day to get ac- 
quainted with new cousins, and to have to 
spend part of it in that Chamber of Tortures 
seemed a dreadful waste of golden minutes. I 
looked out at Jack and Gilbert turning somer- 
saults on the lawn, with the dogs barking and 
circling around them, and a feeling of sadness 
and longness crept over me — as the verse says. 
I can do those stunts rather well myself, and 
when the other fellows were showing off it was 
hard not to take part, too. Judy’s eyes fol- 
lowed mine. She doesn’t care much for those 
things, because she doesn’t do them herself, and 
she often calls them ‘‘silly” with her nose in 
the air. When girls want to make out they’re 
superior, they always say things are “silly.” 
Not that anyone minds! Now, no matter 
what Judy thought of acrobatics, she knew my 


88 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

opinion on the subject and she knew, too, what 
was taking place within me, though I kept still. 
For two good minutes she was quiet as we 
stood watching those careless, happy-hearted 
boys at play. 

“Jack beats Gilbert all to pieces,” she said 
at last, “but I don’t believe he can do those 
lovely wheel-things that you do. Go and show 
him.” 

I went. You can just bet I didn’t wait to 
be told twice; why, you couldn’t have seen my 
heels for dust. And I lighted right down on 
those fellows and set them and the dogs scat- 
tering; then I started in to show them some 
things that were really worth while. When I’d 
done a few I looked back at the window to see 
what Judy thought of her twin, but there 
wasn’t a trace of her anywhere. In a flash it 
came over me that she’d sent me off, as a ruche, 
so she could go alone to Granny and take all 
the blame herself. She meant that I should 
get off scot-free, if she could manage it. 

“Let’s go down Green Brook Road,” Gil- 
bert suggested. 

“I can’t,” I exclaimed with decision, “I’ve 
a date with Granny, but you others trot where 


POET OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 89 

you like.” And without waiting any longer I 
bolted back to the house. 

“ Get some cash for it,” Gilbert shouted un- 
feelingly after me, ‘‘ and treat us to something 
or other; our funds are beastly low.” 

I didn’t answer him — I meant to some other 
time — but ran around to the Blue room and 
scuttled across the veranda to the window. As 
I went panting up the sound of Judy’s voice 
came out to me ; of course, she’d reached there 
long before. I stood listening for a minute, 
looking in unseen. Granny was standing in 
the centre of the room, and Judy was in front 
of her, while a little further off Uncle Tom 
was sitting astride a chair completely hidden in 
the paper and paying no attention to what was 
going on, though perhaps he did but feign that 
out of considerateness. Cousin Laura hadn’t 
yet come down, which might not be a good 
thing for Granny’s firnmess, though it was 
much better for our weakness. 

“And so there was no reason,” I heard 
Granny say. “ Is that what you wish me to be- 
lieve?” 

“No ache reason,” Judy answered softly, 
“but there was the other that I told you of, 


90 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

and, of course, the wad reason to make the 
cheek look the way it did.” 

“ You think Dr. Perry won’t be able to dis- 
cover one?” Granny asked. 

“Oh I I’m very sure he won’t,” Judy cried 
quickly, “ and I should hate to have him try. 
But if you’re going to be firm, please only be 
firm about me. Please don’t have Phil go to 
Dr. Perry, his teeth are as sound and unaching 
as any that ever were made, and it was all my 
plan.” 

Then I bounced into the room; I couldn’t 
stay outside an instant longer. 

“ If Judy goes, I go too,” I announced reso- 
lutely, “though it was only a make-believe. 
My face was as swollen as hers.” 

“ Quite as badly swollen,” Uncle Tom mur- 
mured as if he were reading aloud, “ I remem- 
ber marvelling at your cheek.” Then he put 
down the paper with a great crackhng and 
got up. 

“ Come, Mother,” he said, “ let not these 
suppliants sue in vain. Be merciful to them. 
Don’t you think you’ve had punishment 
enough, little maid? ” 

“Of course I do,” Judy replied promptly. 


POET OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE 91 

“ but perhaps Granny’s thinker and mine don’t 
agree. It’s been such a many-sided punishment 
— though the worst thing about it was the den- 
tist torment hanging over our heads; giving, up 
the cake was nothing to it, bad as that was — I 
mean bad as the giving-up was. And before, 
there was the uncomfortableness inside and out, 
especially out. Hannah would put a mustard 
leaf on my cheek, though I got it off as soon 
as I could, but not before it raised a blister. 
Look here. And Phil wore a piping hot 
potato.” 

“ Great Scot!” Uncle Tom cried. ‘‘Surely, 
Mother, you haven’t the heart now to pile 
Ossa upon Pelion.” 

Granny looked at him and laughed, and 
though we didn’t understand his gibberish we 
saw, when she turned our way, that there was 
to be no further piling of anything upon our 
devoted heads. Ossa and Pelion, whatever 
they might be, were to be saved for another 
day. She just stretched out her arms, and 
Judy and I were in their clasp in a second. 
When she isn’t firm there isn’t a grandmother 
who can beat her anywhere! 

Presently she let us go, after half smother- 


92 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


ing us — though we didn’t object to that, I can 
tell you — and Uncle Tom offered me his hand. 
I shook it heartily — ^he seemed a nice sort! But 
Judy — kissed him. Which shows that girls 
will say one thing, and do another — even the 
best of them. As we stood there in peace and 
amicableness the sound of someone, with rus- 
tling skirts, coming toward the room was dis- 
tinctly heard. We listened a second to make 
sure; then we waited no longer, but dashed 
away to fun and freedom on the Green Brook 
Road. 


CHAPTER VI 

THE S. P. O. D. 

“Let^s make ourselves into a club,” Judy 
cried. “ Don’t you think that would be nice? ” 

We thought it would — and said so — though 
I guess any suggestion would have seemed 
good to us just then, for time hung heavy on 
our hands. We were tired out besides, from a 
long walk in the sun, and were resting on the 
lawn under a big elm, which we called the 
Council Tree, a short distance from the house. 
Larry and Crumb were outstretched on the 
grass near us, taking forty winks, but Shadow 
kept walking over our persons as if we were 
avenues made to be strolled upon, while Lib- 
erty tagged after — both of them only too ready 
to start on another jaunt if we saw it in the 
same light. The week that had gone by since 
the arrival of the Reformers had been a pretty 
crowded one, and jolly, too. Though Jack and 
Sheila had visited Granny much oftener than 

93 


94j we four and two MORE 

we had (this was only our second visit), we 
found we could open their eyes to many things. 
And we did! But at last we had come to the 
end and we were feeling uncommonly low in 
our minds, not knowing what to do next, so 
Judy’s idea put new life into us. 

Jack rolled over on his stomach kicking his 
heels in air; some of it was delight, and some 
of it was to keep Liberty at a distance. 

“Bully for you, Judy,” he cried, “I’ll be 
part of your club, unless it’s for tramps — and 
then I draw the line.” 

“ So do I,” Gilbert chimed in, “ though I’d 
rather have it for the feet than for the hands. 
There was a boy visiting at our Post once — 
Phil, you remember that pie-faced jay, Franky 
Grant, don’t you? — and he told me he be- 
longed to the “Helping Hands,” but he was 
going to resign. His aunt kept him busy 
hunting for her knitting balls, and he had to 
pretend he liked it ” 

“Golf balls are much more unfindable,” 
Margery said, casting a meaning glance at 
Gilbert through her curls, “and people who 
aren’t Helping Handers have to hunt for 
them. It’s no fun, especially if Shadow finds 


THE S. P. O. D. 


95 


the ball first, and you have to give chase. I 
won’t join that sort of thing.” 

“We might have it a sewing club, and make 
heathenish clothes for the missionaries,” Sheila 
suggested. 

“ Oh, bosh ! ” I cut in. “ You seem to forget 
that ours is a mixed society, and we fellows 
don’t sew, and what’s more I shouldn’t think 

any sensible person would ” 

“ Hannah says ” began Margery. 

The words were frozen on her lips by a look 
from a certain pair of eyes. Hannah is all 
well enough in her way and, when that way 
doesn’t clash with ours, it is not an unnice one, 
really. We even Hke her then. She used to be 
nurse to Mother, and our uncles, so, of course, 
remembering that, we feel more kindly toward 
her, and are willing to bear with the aged. But 
that is no reason why her say-sos should be 
dragged into our hours of ease 

“ There’s one thing certain,” I announced in 
savage tones, “ we won’t have any Hannahisms 
in this club. That must be understood front 
the start. And any person found guilty of 
using them must clear out.” 

“ I don’t care,” Margery answered crossly, 


96 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


she’d got herself together and her temper is 
often prickly. “ Hannah says everyone should 
know how to sew, for even the tighest buttons 
and strings come off something dreadful — and 
then, what are you going to do without them? 
You can’t place no dependence on pins, Han- 
nah says, especially if you’re given to sneezing. 
Hannah thinks ” 

“Oh! please shut up, Margery,” Judy in- 
terfered pleadingly. “It’s too warm for such 
talk. Of course, Hannah is right, but she 
only meant it for us — that’s our fate. The 
boys will always have someone to tend to their 
buttons. We couldn’t have a sewing club with 
them in it, even if we showed them how; I’d 
hate to see them sticking a needle in and out 
of a piece of cloth, and getting hot and mad 
over twisting threads.” 

“ We might have a society for us three then,” 
Sheila cried, clinging to her idea; she was as 
bad as Shadow about giving up things. “We 
could call it the Cheerful Workers, and sew 
for the poor.” 

“ Cheerful nothings,” Jack sniffed, “If you 
go on like that I’m off ” (and his legs looked 
distinctly as if they meant to get up). “No 


THE S. P. O. D. 


97 


working club for me, thank you! Dad belongs 
to lots of clubs, but he never does a single 
thing in any of them. I’ve passed the club 
houses often, and the members just sit in the 
windows staring out and talking ” 

“What do they talk about?” Gilbert de- 
manded. 

“ I’ve never been near enough to hear,” Jack 
replied, “but I’ve heard Dad and his friends 
go on at our house, so I suppose it’s the same 
everywhere. They talk of boats, and stock- 
yards, and ’lectioneering ; then they spin 
stories ” 

“ I should like that,” I put in, “ if the stories 
were good.” 

“ I guess they generally are,” Jack returned 
thoughtfully. “ I know Dad and Uncle Tom 
often say they’ve heard a good thing at the 
club. We might try our hands at something 
of the sort. 

“ Dear me ! ” Sheila cried. “ I don’t see why 
we should bother to make ourselves into a club 
just to do that. Sewing is far sensibler.” 

“We might be an improving society and 
each write something and read it out to the 
others,” Judy said quickly. “Don’t you re- 


98 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


member Granny’s club that met here just 
after we came?” 

“ I remember it was most dreadfully stupid,” 
Margery yawned, “and you said so then, we 
got so tired peeking. The tea and the dear 
little cakes afterwards were the best part, and 
I guess all those improving ladies thought so, 
too.” 

“Write something,” Gilbert bellowed an- 
grily. “Huh! what a club for pleasure. We 
might as well be going to school, and that time 
will be here before we know it. If you can’t 
suggest anything livelier, Judy Egerton, you’d 
better shut up. I should think you’d see that 
what we want is to get away from dulness.” 

I sat up suddenly and let Gilbert have a 
sounding whack between the shoulders and, 
though it took him so unawares that he almost 
toppled over, as soon as he straightened him- 
self and started to shoot out his fist, he saw 
that the blow wasn’t one of the returnable 
kind, and his hand fell open at his side. 

“Bully for you, old man,” I shouted, 
“you’ve hit the nail on the head. We want 
to steer clear of slow affairs and have a rous- 
ing good time ; we’ll have to grind soon enough. 


THE S. P. 0. D. 


99 


I move that we get up a club to keep things 
humming — — ” 

“How?” asked Sheila, who was often prac- 
ticable. She was the only one of the crowd 
who hadn’t shouted in joyous accordance; even 
the dogs had joined the din. 

“Oh! bother,” I cried a bit crossly, for no 
one likes to be brought up short. “You can’t 
say beforehand ‘how,’ because it mostly de- 
pends on what you set out to do. But what- 
ever it is, you can bet it won’t be making togs 
for the heathen, or trotting around from door 
to door leaving tracks to reform people. It’s 
pure, undilutable fun we’re after, and — I tell 
you — folks will see some pretty tall humming.” 

“ We might call ourselves ‘ The Hummers,’ ” 
Gilbert put in, with a smirk that said as plain 
as print that he could furnish ideas as fast as 
they were wanted. 

“Ah! not that,” Judy protested. “Some- 
how it makes me think of the little busy bees, 
and you boys didn’t want to be cheerful work- 
ers, but that’s just what they are.” 

“True enough,” Gilbert agreed gloomily, 
“ odious little bumbling things, always setting 
you a beastly example. Still,” he went on, the 


100 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

smirk coming back to his classic features, 
“there are hummers and Hummers! ’’ 

“ Of course there are,” Judy owned up, she’s 
always so nice about seeing the other side, 
“ and if you all want to, we’ll be Hummers — 
only I think it would be more grown-up if we 
were the Suppression of something, or the 
Relief Clubbers ” 

“Or the Preventables,” chimed in Jack, 
“like the ‘ S. P. C. A.’ — the Society for the 
Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, you know 
— I say, what’s to pay?” 

For Judy was on her feet hopping wildly 
around as if one of the hummers — and not the 
kind Gilbert had meant — had found her out, 
and the dogs, as if they, too, had been stung 
to action, were bounding about her, making 
such a row that just at first we couldn’t hear 
ourselves think. In a jiffy we saw that there 
was no pain on her brow, or anywhere else. 

“ Down, Larry,” she cried above the uproar, 
“shut up. Crumb, somebody catch Liberty. 
Oh! do everybody stop barking, and hurrah 
for Jack, he’s given us our name.” 

“What is it?” asked Jack, staring at her 
bewilderedly, while we put the same question. 


THE S. P. 0. D. 


101 


and Shadow, who was always uncatchable, 
echoed it from a safe distance. 

“Why, the Society for the Prevention of 
Dulness,” she answered. “ The S. P. O. D. 
Isn’t it perfectly grand?” 

We caught on like a house on fire, and for 
a few minutes it sounded as if a circus were 
passing. Jack shouted as loud as the rest of 
us for, as he afterwards explained (and he was 
ever a truthful boy) , he remembered that Judy 
had suggested the club in the first place, and 
the dulness had come from Gilbert, so he 
wasn’t shouting for himself at all, because 
he’d only put the two things together, though 
he was glad we liked it. Liked it? Well, 
ra-a-ther. It couldn’t be beat. 

When quiet was restored, we went on talk- 
ing about the Club and its officers ; there were 
positions enough to go around so that matter 
was discussed with calm sereneness. Then 
Margery, in accordance with the unwritten 
law in every well-brought-up family, was sent 
to the house to fetch a copy-book. She looked 
rank mutiny, though she didn’t dare to argue, 
and before we knew what was going to hap- 
pen Judy up and promised her that nothing 


10^ WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

should be said about the S. P. O. D. while 
she was gone, if she’d hurry. That was hard 
on us; still Judy had given her word and, as 
things turned out, we didn’t have to keep si- 
lent long, for the messenger was back in 
double-quick time. She was puffing like a 
steam-drill, and, of course, she’d brought the 
wrong book — that’s Margery all over! I was 
for ordering her back, but Judy said we 
couldn’t waste any more precious moments, 
the Club must be put down in black and white 
right away. Whereupon, as had been agreed, 
she started in to write the account. 

It was an agitating moment. We pressed 
close about her, dogs and all, while Shadow, the 
moment that he saw she was busy, had to coil 
himself up in her lap. She didn’t pack him 
off, because his back makes a fine table, though 
just as she started in to write he wobbled, and 
the letters looked like a six-year-old’s. It was 
impossible to expect any club to start with such 
a shaky beginning, but no one had thought to 
tell Margery to bring a rubber, and we gen- 
erously refrained from making her trot again; 
she was still breathing actively, though (and in 
this I may wrong the child) I think much of 


THE S. P. O. D. 


103 


, it was put on. So I dropped a promiscuous 
hint, but Sheila and Gilbert, who were the 
other sendable ones, pretended not to hear. 
Then Jack held Shadow steady by main force 
and Judy, looking very red and hot, set to 
work on a fresh page. And this is what she 
wrote; 

I 

The name of this Club is — 

The Society for the Prevention of Dulness. 

II 

The Officers of it, are the following: 

President — Philip Egerton. 

Vice — John Brayton Ronalds. 

Secretary — Judith Egerton. 

Treasurer (only there’s nothing to treasure) — Gil- 
bert Hale Egerton. 

Talking Delegate — Sheila Janet Ronalds. 

Walking Delegate — 'Margery Ronalds Egerton. 

III 

The Object of this Club is: 

To Keep Dulness from flapping its wings 
above our heads. 


Judy paused, with her pencil raised and a 
frown between her eyebrows. 


104. WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

“We must have a motto,” she said posi- 
tively, “and I truly think it ought to be in 
Latin.” 

Gilbert groaned; he also kicked — which 
wasn’t at all the thing for a Treasurer 
to do. 

“But we ain’t Improvers,” he grumbled. 
“ I thought you knew that we were just going 
in for fun, and, besides, unless it was in Dog- 
Latin, Sheila and Margery wouldn’t under- 
stand. And anyway, I don’t believe the rest 
of you could spell the first thing without a 
book, so that puts an end to the club. I don’t 
see why we should have a motto.” 

“ Please don’t be disagreeable, Gilbert,” 
Judy cried. “All clubs have them, I’m sure.” 

“Well,” I interfered, “/the only way to pre- 
vent dulness is to play some prank — anyone 
can see that. So we might take for our motto, 
‘No day without its prank.’” 

That sounded like something I’d heard be- 
fore, but I wasn’t certain. It expressed my 
meaning at any rate, and it was easier to un- 
derstand than Latin, besides being more spell- 
able, for I rather shared Gilbert’s opinion, 
only it would never have done for me, in my 


THE S. P. O. D. 


105 


position, to side with him. Judy’s brow cleared, 
and the others looked pleasanter right away, 
especially the Delegates — who’d been shoot- 
ing angry glances at the Treasurer, which he 
treated with lofty scorn. 

“‘No day without its prank!’ Oh! I say, 
that’s a corker,” Jack cried, turning a somer- 
sault and coming up grinning the next mo- 
ment. “Have you written it down, Secre- 
tary?” he demanded in a Vice-Presidential 
voice, though he ought to have left the ques- 
tion to his superior. 

“Not yet, I was making it into poetry,” 
Judy answered, “ hke this: 

A prank every day 
Keeps Dulness away. 

Isn’t that more the thing?” 

“You bet,” Jack giggled, before I could 
speak. “It makes me think of the Village 
Blacksmith: 

Each morning sees some Prank begun. 

Each evening sees its close. 

Hurrah for Judy!” 

“Order! Order!” I commanded above the 


106 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

uproar. “This is a business meeting, not a 
yelling one. Keep quiet and sit still, every- 
one of you, or there will be consequences. 
That’s it — now you look ever so much more 
clubbable. As President of this honor- 
able society Tn\ glad to say that it’s been mag- 
nanimously agreed to adopt Miss Judy Eger- 
ton’s motto for three reasons. First, because 
it is in our mother’s tongue. Second, because 
it sinks unforgettably into the humane mind. 
Third — and lastly — because it puts every- 
thing in a nutshell. I hope the words will 
penetrate the thick walls of every preventing 
heart here present, whispering to each of us 
to go forth and do our best to drive dulness 
from the land of our birth. And now, fellow 
members, you can all get up and raise the 
roof.” 

When we couldn’t shout any more we sank 
down again on the ground, rather weak in 
our lungs, and wondering aloud how we should 
begin our careers of Preventers, but before we 
could decide on anything we were called to 
dinner. It was borne in upon us then, for 
somehow, we hadn’t thought of it earlier, that 
our Society would have to be a secret one. 


THE S. P. 0. D. 


107 


It would never do for the grown-ups to sus- 
pect aught of what was in our young and soar- 
ing minds, or they might turn Preventers 
themselves — the other kind! Only too truly 
we felt that our plans must he made on the 
sly, and the mere thought of them, wrapped in 
mist though they were, sent our brave red 
blood tingling more quickly through our veins. 
We couldn’t wait to talk over matters fur- 
ther, for Sophy was making frantic signals 
from the window and, if we loitered, she might 
start off any moment to tell Granny (hers is 
an informing disposition) and then the dinner 
would be shorn of its dessert. Such curtailings 
had happened before, and would again — 
there’s nothing new in the way of punish- 
ments! So we didn’t delay, but in the short 
time it took to cross the lawn we determined 
that we must have some countersign. Judy 
wanted ‘‘Remember” (Charles the First’s 
“ Remember,” and you can make it so thrilling 
and ghastly!) but it is often a dead give-away, 
so we sent it packing on the instant. J ack and 
Gilbert, who were sore tempted by hunger to 
increase their speed unbecomingly, thought 
any old thing ought to do; one was for “ Gin- 


108 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


ger,” and the other for “Buttons,” while 
Sheila giggled provokingly and declared 
“Beans” sounded far nicer. 

It really was too bad! To get so far, to 
make up a fine, full-fledged society and ar- 
range about the officers, and the motto, and 
everything, only at the last to be stumped by 
a measly little pass-word. No wonder we all 
felt as solemn as owls. We knew that unless 
we made up our minds in a hurry we’d have to 
wait until after dinner was over, for with 
Sophy passing in and out of the room we’d 
have to be pretty careful on account of the 
nature Heaven had given her (that’s what she 
says, for everyone puts the blame on someone 
else). I didn’t feel, as President of the S. P. 
O. D., that I ought to suggest the counter- 
sign, still the others looked so dreadfully stu- 
pid, there was little to be expected from them. 
And we were almost at the house. Somehow, 
I wished I hadn’t squelched Judy’s “Remem- 
ber” — it really wasn’t half bad, and she did 
so like it. I glanced at her to see if she was 
minding, but her face showed no backward 
regrets; it was all screwed up as if she was 
trying to think of something new. I was 


THE S. P. O. D. 109 

sure she felt with me that we would have to 
be quick, and I knew she thought, as I did — 
that there was too much talk about discus- 
sions to make them altogether pleasant; so we 
wanted to get that part of the business over as 
soon as possible. 

Then Margery came to the rescue. The 
only thing she’d done had been to run for the 
copy-book (which didn’t count, for she would 
have had to go on errands, club or no club), 
and just as she reached the breakfast room 
window she turned and faced us all, saying, 
with her finger up to her lips, and her eyes as 
round as saucers : 

“ Mum’s the word! ” 

And “ Mum ” it was. 


CHAPTER VII 

THE MEANING OF A PRANK 

Judy’s next secretarial act was to make a 
list of those ordinary pranks which will un- 
bidden rise in every pranker’s breast. It 
seemed a waste of paper, because we knew 
them only too well, but she said the human 
memory plays a person dreadfully false when 
it’s most wanted, so that quite common, every- 
day facts run away like water down a hill, 
leaving the mind as dry as punk. Perhaps she 
was right. At any rate, she’d gone to the 
trouble of copying the things down in our log- 
book, and there they would have to stay. We 
were all under the Council Tree the morning 
after the club was formed and she showed us 
the record, with pride mantling her blushing 
maiden’s cheek, as it says in the story, and her 
voice shook a little when she read it out. It 
went like this : 

FOR THE FRANKER IN TIME OF NEED 
Apple-pie bed. 

Brushes, boots, or anything handy able, put between the 
sheets. 


110 


THE MEANING OF A PRANK 111 


Chairs pulled suddenly from about-to-sit-downers (not 
to be tried on the Aged). 

Door mats secreted (one on the servants!). 

Elevating objects. 

Fastening something to coat, or skirt, unrecked by the 
wearer. 

Ghosts: gliding and gibbering. 

Hooking things from the pantry. 

Ice dropped between skin and collar of unauspicious 
person. 

Jollying somebody with a straight face. 

King and Queen. 

Lurking in dark passages (you know why). 

Milk sweetened or soured. 

Nots so fixed that packages part asunder. 

Openings made for the youth of all nations. 

Persons sent on fool errands (have a care!). 

Ringing bells and running off (another on the servants). 
Salt put in place of sugar. 

Twitchable parcels laid in the path of the unwary. 
Uniting persons, unnoticed by them. 

Visitors entertained. 

Watery showers from clear skies. 

Xchanging hats, or other articles. 

THE END 

We fellows sniggered at each familiar 
friend, while the two Delegates giggled and 
nodded until their heads nearly dropped off. 


112 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


All this pleased Judy immensely and quite 
made up to her for the time she’d spent get- 
ting the deeds in alphabetical order. Anybody 
else would have written them in a slap-dash 
fashion, but she isn’t that sort; she’s always 
willing to take extra pains. Of course, we 
thought of other pranks right away, for her 
list was like a little nudge to the elbows of 
our minds. Yet it was far from an easy mat- 
ter to decide upon the first public act of the 
S. P. O. D. We’d determined from the start 
to do no deed that should cause a blot of shame 
to submerge the Society’s fair brow, and 
we couldn’t play pranks on any of the mem- 
bers. But that didn’t dishearten the band. 
There was still the outside world — Uplands 
and its inhabitants, and all who came within 
the gates. Our hands would be full ! 

Granny’s name stood at the top of the page, 
though Judy would put M. P. after it, which — 
she explained — meant “mild prank.” It was 
the only saving clause, so we let it stand. The 
second name was greeted with prolonged 
howls, and immediately Gilbert offered to 
catch any number of beetles to be let loose 
upon occasions. With a haste that was truth- 


THE MEANING OF A PRANK 113 


fully unbecoming, Judy overruled the sug- 
gestion, even as it emerged from her brother’s 
lips, and Sheila and Margery piped in quickly. 
When it comes to crawlers girls always flock 
together. Judy declared beetles were low, and 
would bring a shade to the Society’s fair brow 
(it wasn’t the Society’s brow Gilbert had 
had in mind), and she went on to say that it 
meant death to the beetles — which was cruel. 
This was fine in Judy, you may think, but it 
didn’t take us in. She’s always objected to 
beetles, and she knew that it wouldn’t only be 
the second person on the list who would feel 
them on her back, or her brow, or watch them 
meandering over her skirts. Beetles do not 
stay long in one place — and, while it sounded 
very noble to talk about the cruel pangs of 
the downtrodden ones, we knew she wouldn’t 
shed many tears if the whole tribe of ’em was 
swept from the face of the earth. But she 
came down so flat-footed that we had to rule 
out the beetles. If half of a club thinks an 
action low and keeps dinning about it, the 
other half has to give in — or there will be a 
dandy row. 

Judy suggested a lot of things to do to 


114 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


the second person, though she might just as 
well have written “M. P.” down again, for 
all the fun there was in any of them. Gilbert 
had been willing to go to a lot of trouble 
about the beetles — and he is far from a grub- 
bing boy — but when his plan was treated with 
scorn he retired into himself and sat apart, 
looking Grosser than a bear with an old sore 
head. Judy pretended to be blind to this, and 
kept asking his opinion in the politest tones. 
It was no go, however, he wouldn’t come 
round. He just grunted out that she seemed 
to be running the whole show and, if Sunday- 
school pranks were to be the order for the 
other lady-like members, he’d nothing to say. 
I felt my blood boil at his sarcasticalness, and 
Jack was ready to fly out, though we held our 
tongues for fear of a scrap, but he finally 
ended in maldng Judy mad, and I don’t know 
how matters would have turned out if Sheila 
hadn’t been blessed with an idea. 

It wasn’t much of a one, still we pounced 
on it gratefully on account of the chasm it 
bridged. She proposed that we’d buy some 
sleigh-bells, or the little jingly ones the baby 
kids have on their toys, and fasten them on 


THE MEANING OF A PRANK 115 


Cousin Laura’s gowns. The three girl Pre- 
venters would see to the simple business of 
sewing them on, and then we’d all come in for 
the fun. 

She shall have music wherever she goes,’ ” 
giggled Margery, catching on at once. “Oh! 
you wait and hear. She won’t be able to tell 
where it comes from, she’ll think it’s one of the 
cats, and you know how she just hates cats 
— and the more she bustles around the louder 
the bells will tinkle. Sheila darling, it’s the 
very scrumptiousest plan.” 

Sheila tossed her head and looked awfully 
high-and-mighty, though she needn’t have put 
on any airs, because the idea was on Judy’s 
list all along. There are different lands of 
scrumptiousness, too, and while I’d have chosen 
another word for such a tame little affair if 
I’d been allowed to speak first, still the longer 
I thought of it the better I was pleased. The 
others hailed it with roars of delight, and Gil- 
bert came right out of the dumps. We knew 
Cousin Laura was, far from deaf, and though 
a bell is never as scattering as a beetle, yet it 
will keep most people pretty wide awake. And 
another thing in its favor was the fact that 


116 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


there’d be small danger of our being surprised 
by the enemy with that ringing and chinging 
in the air. Our club atmosphere cleared in- 
stanter, and we went on planning with bound- 
ing pulses; though we soon discovered that 
we were as far from settling on the big thing 
as at first. Farther. And to make matters 
ten times worse, Judy, who’d been in a brown 
study for some minutes, shied a bomb into our 
midst by asking what a prank really was. 
That was a corker. Then she went on to say 
that we all seemed to think that it meant just 
playing tricks on trusting people, when it 
really might mean any sort of fun, and she 
thought we ought to look it up in the Die. be- 
fore deciding on our plans. 

We stared at her, having no answer ready. 
As if it wasn’t enough fun to make game of 
the grown-ups without bothering us with such 
questions as if she was a school-marm! But I 
suppose the beetles had wakened her wonder- 
ing parts and made her want to stay our hands. 
That’s the trouble with girls, they aren’t prac- 
ticable jokers; they’re always remembering a 
thing has two sides — which is hampering. I 
saw that I’d have to take a stand and be done 


THE MEANING OF A PRANK 117 


with it, so I determined to find out the mean- 
ing of the word myself and waste no more 
precious time. Of course, it wasn’t my place 
to run errands, still I couldn’t stop to think of 
that. 

I made for the house, hut luck was against 
me. Granny and Uncle Tom were in the li- 
brary and I didn’t see them until it was too 
late to beat a retreat. There was nothing for 
me to do then but to deport myself like a man 
— and a President — so I drew myself up to 
my fullest height and told Granny I’d like to 
consult the Die. if she’d no objections. She 
nodded pleasantly and went on with her read- 
ing as if there was nothing out of the way in 
what I’d said, though Uncle Tom seemed to 
think it no end funny. He laughed in a 
fashion that made me resolve interiorly that 
he shouldn’t escape the S. P. O. D. if my 
voice had aught of weight; moreover, no mat- 
ter what the book had to say on the subject, 
I’d treat him to the kind of pranks I already 
knew. 

“ Come your ways, imbiber of knowledge,” 
he cried with a smirk, “ enter and quench your 
thirst at the well of English undefiled.” 


118 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


I held my tongue and bent over the Die. on 
its big stand. I soon found what I wanted, 
though with Uncle Tom firing a lot of officious 
questions at my head, I didn’t dare to trust 
to my memory, so I took a pencil and a bit 
of paper from my pocket and scratched down 
the different meanings as fast as I could. See- 
ing the seriousness on my brow he stopped 
jollying me and stood leaning against the man- 
tel, his eyes fixed on my face; somehow, I felt 
he could even see what I was writing, though 
the width of the room was between us. Pres- 
ently he said very slowly: 

“ I’ll wager anything you like that that boy 
is after a prank.” 

I jumped as if I’d been shot, and in a flash 
my hand flew to the top of the page, then it 
quickly fell to my side and I squnched back 
in a heap ; I’d tumbled into his trap and no mis- 
take. As soon as I could, I pulled myself to- 
gether. I saw he hadn’t proved the first thing ; 
he’d only hit on the word by blind accidental- 
ness. Still, it left me shivery, not knowing 
what he’d light on next, and I was glad enough 
that none of the others had come in my stead. 
It would have gone ill with our club if that 


THE MEANING OF A PRANK 119 

had been the case. I didn’t wait for further 
parleying, but rammed the paper in my pocket, 
banged to the Die. and took a header through 
the window. It wasn’t a dignified proceeding, 
though it was safe; he might think what he 
chose, his thoughts would tell him nothing. I 
kept up a pretty stiff pace back to the Coun- 
cil Tree, and yet rumblings of reproach 
greeted me from afar. 

“Granny and Uncle Tom were in the li- 
brary,” I said and, though I was awfully 
blown, I put a world of meaning into my 
voice. 

Instantly the clouds rolled from the brows 
before me. 

“How did you manage?” the Society 
gasped in one breath. 

“ I managed,” I answered, wagging my head 
with my tongue in my cheek. “ I man- 
aged. Trust your President. Here’s what 
I wrote down under their very eyes.” 

I put my hand into my pocket and drew it 
out — empty. I put it into the other pocket 
—into every other pocket in my trousers, and 
in my jacket as well, and each time out it 
came empty, except for the things a boy gen- 


120 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


erally keeps stowed away for convenience 
sake, and which didn’t count — that wad of 
paper wasn’t with them. I even went so far 
as to turn the inside outside; but it was all in 
vain. I stared helplessly at my brother and 
sister Preventers, and they stared back — ^you 
know how! — with open mouths, and eyes that 
said plainer than plain, “Now, you’ve gone 
and done it!” But no one uttered a word. 
Then I sat down — somehow. 

At once Liberty, as if he knew what a hole 
I was in, came up and licked my face, and 
Shadow came likewise — also Larry, and 
Crumb. They understood, quicker than flesh 
and blood mortals, the deepness of my feelings. 
Dogs are always like that — the most comfort- 
ing comforters to be found anywhere! You’d 
have thought such an example would be swiftly 
followed by humane nature, wouldn’t you? It 
was Not. The expressive silence lasted for 
some minutes; then the whole club rose and 
howled at me like a Roman populace — and 
worse. They forgot that I was their President 
and called me “a duffer” (this from the 
boys), while the girls cried “ Blunderbluss,” 
and “ Stupid,” with sniffs that meant unsay- 


THE MEANING OF A PRANK 121 


able things; even Judy knew no mercy, though 
she was the first to soften. 

“ How ever did you lose it? ” she asked, and 
she honestly tried to make her voice unfile-like. 

“I suppose it just fell out,” I mumbled, “ I 
was in such a hurry.” 

“‘Haste is of the devil,’” Jack put in, as 
if he were a hundred in the shade. Sometimes 
his head is really too full of copy-book wisdom 
and tags of verses for anyone to stand. I let 
him see how I felt on that score by a look. 

“Well, I had to get back,” I growled, “you 
couldn’t do the first thing without me — I 
should think you’d see that without jumping 
on a fellow as if you were all centipedes and 
didn’t know what else to do with your feet. 
Besides, I’d another reason.” 

Then I told them how awfully near Uncle 
Tom had come to finding out what I was up 
to. I had meant to have the secret buried with 
me, but it seemed best that they should hear it, 
and it did change things a lot. They saw at 
once that I simply had to take the wings of 
the morning, no matter if haste did belong to 
the person Jack had spoken of. They all 
agreed to that; still, we couldn’t help feeling 


122 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


that matters were as black as a pocket. I was 
for resigning my office as the least I could do 
for getting them in such a fix, but they raised 
the dandiest row and Judy was almost in tears 
at the mere idea. She pointed out ( and it was 
true, too!) that it really was all her fault, as 
she’d been the only one unsatisfied with what 
we knew about pranks, and she volunteered to 
hunt for the lost paper herself. There was 
just a chance that Uncle Tom hadn’t seen it, 
and she might find it before he, or any of the 
other grown-ups, did. 

The moment she was on her feet. Jack was 
up, too, and it didn’t take the Delegates long 
to follow his example, only I beat them at it, 
you’d better believe. Gilbert, however, didn’t 
seem to be in any hurry; he just stretched him- 
self, as cool as you please, and looked off at 
the sunny lawn with half-shut eyes; but before 
I could let him feel a brotherly poke he joined 
us of his own accord. He’d evidently been 
thinking things out, for he said, in a-not-afraid- 
of-the-whole-bunch-of-you voice, that we were 
being all the Clubs we’d talked of — Helping 
Hands, Willing Feet, Cheerful Workers, 
Plain Improvers, every single one of ’em but 


THE MEANING OF A PRANK 123 


Preventers of Dulness, and he hoped we’d take 
a vow, whether the paper was found, or not, to 
talk less and act more. There was common 
sense in his remarks, and we cried, “ Ay, ay,” 
in a loud chorus as we formed ourselves into 
a band. 

Now, I’d traveled a straight course from the 
house to the Council Tree, and the way was as 
plain as the nose on Danby’s face (and there 
isn’t anything plainer in the universe. Cook 
says). It was Judy’s plan for Jack to inter- 
view Uncle Tom — the boy can look as solemn 
as an owl, and keep his real feelings hidden 
all the time. She would search the library 
herself with a careless, unparticular sort of air, 
Gilbert was to do the same just outside the 
window, and I was also in charge of that part 
of the terrace; while the Delegates were to 
measure every single inch of the lawn as if 
they were hunting for lucky clovers. There 
had been a baby breeze stirring all morning, 
and the paper might have been blown to one 
side or the other, so they were bound to look 
well, and on all-fours, if need be. We made 
that specially clear to them. When all was 
arranged, we started on our way and the dogs 


IM WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


immediately fell into line. Liberty, in particu- 
lar, was so overjoyed at the prospect of a 
walk that he nipped Shadow’s leg, daring him 
to come on — at which. Shadow turned to let 
him have it for being so fresh. We stood still 
and watched them as they tore over the grass, 
and, though we were feehng most awfully low 
in our minds, we whistled and yelled to keep 
the sport going, while we held the two other 
dogs tight. Just as it was all up with the 
youngster. Shadow paused for the wee-est part 
of a second, and the next we knew he was 
running for all he was worth, with his head 
high, and his jaws close shut, and the puppy 
— his slobbery pink tongue dangling out a 
yard — was fairly tumbling over himself as he 
gave chase. 

Round and round they flew in ever nearer 
circles, and suddenly Gilbert, with a quick cry 
of “ Oh! I say,” fell upon Shadow and dragged 
him down. A howl went up from us as from 
a furious giant’s throat. If there’s one thing 
that’s unfair, it’s interfering in another fellow’s 
game, and for an outsider to trip up a boy, or 
a dog, when he’s doing his level best, is, of all 
meannesses, the meanest. Gilbert had been 



HE JUMPED UP WAVING SOMETHING IN HIS HAND 




THE MEANING OF A PRANK 125 


cheering on Liberty from the start, and any- 
one could see, with half an eye, that he wanted 
him to win; but that was no reason why he 
couldn’t let the dogs work out the matter 
themselves, without taking such a low-down 
advantage with his superior unblownness. I 
felt a blush of shame mantle my brow that a 
brother of mine should be guilty of such con- 
duct, and I meant to have it out with him 
then and there — with fists, or feet, I didn’t 
know which. I was mad. I sprang to the at- 
tack, but Jack was before me. Gilbert saw us 
coming from his stooping position over Shadow 
and yelled to us to keep back. 

“Two of you at once on one chap,” he 
roared. “That’s fine, ain’t it? That’s cork- 
ing brave. You great ninnies, can’t you see 
what I’m after? Do you think this dog has 
nothing but his tongue in his mouth? There, 
look! Who’s the only fellow with any sense 
in his head?” 

He jumped up waving something in his 
hand, and held it out to me, while Shadow 
made frantic leaps in the air. 

“Is this yours?” he demanded in a lordly 


voice. 


126 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


I took it from him without speaking. It 
was mostly shreds, but if a boy and a dog tug 
at the same object such a state isn’t to be won- 
dered at. Wet and grimy though the thing 
was, the fact remained that it had once been 
paper. After a moment I was even able to 
make out some words in my own writing — 
grown very faint. A tremendous cheer worked 
its way to my lips and burst upon the listening 
air as I clapped Gilbert on the shoulder. 

“Bully for you, Sherlock Holmes,” I cried, 
“you’ve saved us! Friends, and fellow-pre- 
ventibles, lend me your ears. This battered, 
tattered, spattered thing is the long-lost docu- 
ment. Our weary search is o’er, and we can 
l^reathe in peace again, thanks to our noble, 
far-seeing brother, and thanks, as well, to 
Shadow — our trusty friend and comrade dear. 
Here, old chap, I give you back this vile paper, 
do with it as you will. That’s it ! r-r-rend it to 
atoms. We are saved. And now,” I went on, 
when I could make myself heard, “anybody 
wanting to look in the Die. may do so at his — 
or her (and especially her) peril. The Society 
won’t suffer for it. But I warn that person — 
him or her — to wait till the coast is clear and 
even then to trust to memory, however bad, 


THE MEANING OF A PRANK 127 


paper is too risky. Another time a brilliant 
brother mightn’t be able to rush to the rescue. 
And I want to say right here to any squeamish 
holder-back, that a prank isn’t wicked. Far 
otherwise. It’s a gay, and sporty deed, a sim- 
ple trick, a mischievous act — I remember that 
last because of never being sure — like others 
I could name — about spelling mischievous, 
whether the ‘e’ or ‘i’ comes first — though a 
little thing like that doesn’t bother me long. 
What concerns us most is, that we can just 
pitch in and root up dulness from the land.” 

Judy stood out from the others; her face 
very set and purposeful. 

“ We’ll begin with Uncle Tom,” she declared 
darkly, her manner saying plainly that our late 
scare must be revenged. 

“No so fast, my child, not so fast,” I an- 
swered. “ Uncle Tom shan’t escape us — don’t 
you fear — but we’ll have to lie low for a couple 
of days; he’ll be on guard at first. I saw that 
in his eyes.” 

“ The bells,” put in Sheila. 

“Bells it is,” I returned. “I move we all 
go down to the little Odds and Ends shop and 
lay in a stock.” 


CHAPTER VIII 

FOR love’s sake 

The beginnings of nations are always hum- 
ble, say the history-books, and that is also the 
way with the beginnings of many other things, 
but most especially of clubs. Jack said no- 
body ought to be cast down about it, for he’d 
no doubt the Prevention of Cruelty to Ani- 
mals Society itself was long in starting. And 
when it did get a move on, it was with some 
simple act of brotherly love like the uncheck- 
ing of a horse, or the disrnembering of a tin 
can from a dog’s tail. And very probably 
the President had his hands full, too, trying to 
keep up the spirits of his followers, and he had 
to tell them over and over that if they’d only 
wait a little in peace and patience they would 
soon have all the business they could attend to. 

I didn’t need any points from Jack, I can 
tell you, for I knew how to run things myself, 
only when you’ve got grumblings to deal with, 
it’s good to have someone on your side. Any- 

12S 


FOR LOVE’S SAKE 


129 


way, he was a Vice, so it really wasn’t like 
interfering. Well, if it hadn’t been that we 
were just on fire with thoughts of the great 
deeds in the matter of preventing dulness that 
we meant to do some time, those first days 
would have been hard to live through; they 
were so dreadfully tame. It seemed as if 
everything was against us. The bells, in par- 
ticular, gave us no end of trouble. As if it 
wasn’t enough that to get a measly handful 
(the shopman hadn’t but a dozen) we had to 
tramp more than a mile to the shop and back 
again in the blazing sunshine, we were late for 
dinner, into the bargain, with the usual con- 
sequences. You’d have thought that after that 
everything would be as smiling as a path of 
roses, wouldn’t you? It was not. The worst 
was still to come! 

Girls are dreadfully cautious by nature. 
They won’t take the least risk, but will squeak 
and run back a dozen times before they end 
up by doing a single thing. We fellows knew 
this all too well and we were willing to make 
allowances. Judy and the Delegates had only 
been commanded to do a little trumpery sew- 
ing, for, of course, that was more in their 


130 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


line than ours — it being sort of born in them, 
as you might say. We volunteered to keep the 
coast clear as long as possible, so it should be 
easy sailing for them, which — as anyone can 
see — was where the real work came in. 

As soon as dinner was over we boys trooped 
around to the side veranda where the grown- 
ups were sitting. They had just come from 
their own luncheon and seemed at peace with 
all the world. They were also transparently 
glad to see us, and we pretended we were hav- 
ing the time of our lives. Jack, with the big- 
gest part of the undertaking on his manly 
shoulders, asked Cousin Laura to play Hop- 
pity, and when she beamed all over and said 
she’d be “de-lighted to! ” he got out the board, 
like the hero he was. She never tackles the 
game lightly — not she! — she puts her whole 
mind to it. Why, it’s like starting a steamer to 
get her to move a piece — she thinks so long. 
Jack had been there before, so he went into 
the thing with his eyes open, but it was to 
help on the Cause. I sat waiting at one side 
while Uncle Tom opened up his chaff on me, 
and Granny — suddenly remembering some 
wool she wanted to wind — found employment 


FOR LOVE’S SAKE 


131 


for Gilbert’s idle hands. We were victims, 
but our spirits were kept from fainting by the 
thought of what was being done afar off in 
Cousin Laura’s closet. 

That thought came banging down to earth 
at the end of half an hour, with the appearance 
of the Walking Delegate, who took up her 
stand behind Uncle Tom’s chair, where I had 
a full view of her distorting countenance — and 
so had Cousin Laura. Not that she paid any 
attention to it at first, being far too busy 
studying moves, but the awful scowls and 
mouthings must have got on her nerves, for 
presently she cried sharply: 

“If you’ve anything to say, child, say it at 
once and stop that hideous dumb show. Why 
do you make such grimaces ? ” 

Margery turned redder — I didn’t suppose 
that was possible — and almost tumbled over 
with fright, then she straightened herself and 
spluttered out: 

“Because Phil’s so dreadfully stupid.” 

Here was a pretty kettle of fish, as Cook 
says. Everyone glanced around, first at her, 
and then at me — and more at me— while Uncle 
Tom shouted with a laugh : 


13a WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


“Just what I thought myself, only I was 
too polite to say it.’’ 

Now, the worst of being called stupid is that 
it’s apt to make you so, all in a minute. I knew, 
of course, by Margery’s signals, that some- 
thing was in the wind, but I couldn’t tell what 
it was, and I had to sit still and keep down my 
feelings because I couldn’t have it out with 
her on the spot. She took a mean advantage 
of this state of affairs and went boldly to 
Uncle Tom’s side, leaning against him and 
grinning at the way be tried to roast me. I 
treated them both to some pretty black looks 
which did but increase their silliness. It wasn’t 
particularly lively just then; a deep shade 
of gloom was on Gilbert’s brow, despite his 
smirking lips, and the company smile on Jack’s 
face was not implanted there by Enjoyment. 
Presently the Talking Delegate came ambling 
out on the veranda quite mute, but if she’d 
worn sandwich-boards things couldn’t have 
been plainer. “No Go!” was written all over 
her from head to foot. Even the blindest of 
grown-ups must have seen that. 

There was no escape for us. We couldn’t 
— wouldn’t desert Jack. It was as if he was 


FOR LOVE’S SAKE 


13B 


glued to his chair, while Cousin Laura — em- 
barked upon a wild career of Hoppity — ^went 
from one game to another, as though she meant 
to play unto seventy times seven. Gilbert, his 
labors o’er, sank on the settee in a heap and al- 
most directly forgot our troubles in sleep, and 
Granny dropped off, too, behind her book, 
only not so loudly. So the minutes crawled 
away. 

At half-past four Cousin Laura pushed the 
Halma board from her and got up stiffly. She 
was cramped and tired from long sitting, 
though otherwise in high good-humor, and af- 
fectionate to the point of rumpling Jack’s hair 
(a thing he hates!) , but such condescension did 
the victor bestow upon the vanquished. Then 
she went away, saying that she wouldn’t go out 
that afternoon, she would lie down and try to 
sleep instead. Granny also left to finish her 
nap more comfortably, after making arrange- 
ments to drive with Uncle Tom in an hour’s 
time ; but he seemed so pleased with our society 
that he stayed on and on. Well, he did spin 
some mighty good yarns. I’ll own, though I 
couldn’t half listen for wondering what dread- 
ful fate had befallen Judy. There we all were. 


134 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

with news at hand, and yet our watchword was 
only too painfully true among us. At last 
Uncle Tom took himself off and we three fell 
on the Delegates. 

And this is the story that greeted our lis- 
tening ears: 

The girls reached Cousin Laura’s closet after 
many false starts (there’s where the mistake 
was made in the beginning, though I consid- 
erately refrained from more than pointing it 
out), and just as they were about to do the 
momentous deed they heard bloodcurdling 
footsteps coming nearer and ever nearer. They 
screwed up their courage — somehow — and 
peeked cautiously out, only to see Hortense, 
Cousin Laura’s maid, bearing down upon them. 
At the hideous sight their teeth chattered in 
their heads — they were undone! Mercifully, 
however, one of the servants called her and 
she went out into the large hall, leaving the 
door of the closet free; which opportunity was 
instantaneously seized by the conspirators, who 
scampered to safer places of hiding. And none 
too soon. Hortense was back in a jiffy, with 
the step of a grenadier and the face of a pirate. 
It would have gone pretty hard with anybody 


FOR LOVE’S SAKE 


135 


caught trespassing at that time, I can tell you. 
Then she began to put away clothes, and take 
them out in a senseless fashion, and during one 
of her disappearances into a wardrobe, Mar- 
gery, who’d hidden behind the window cur- 
tains, crept out, making her way later to us 
with all the distress signals flying, but so mud- 
dled up that others were blamed for her stupid- 
ity. Sheila had gone on all-fours back of the 
lounge and there she had to wait until she got 
her chance to escape. Then only poor Judy re- 
mained. And it was precisely as if she were 
held fast by manacles of iron. She couldn’t 
get out. She was under the bed — hidden from 
a cruel world! The muslin ruffle, falling to 
the floor, concealed the maiden’s form from 
view; she could even stretch at length, though 
her couch wasn’t one of roses. But that which 
kept out the gleam of prying eyes kept out 
the air as well. And it was piping hot; it was 
— I don’t know how many degrees of Frying- 
heat. 

A groan rose from our throats that almost 
reached high heaven, as we heard of her cap- 
tive state; then— suddenly— we grew groanless. 
Our tongues refused to move. Horror — Cri- 


136 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

key! — Horror— Cousin Laura had gone up- 
stairs TO LIE down. 

The moments went on, creeping leadenly by. 
Granny and Uncle Tom started for their drive, 
and we still sat where they had left us, a prey 
to gloom that grew gloomier and ever gloomier 
until you could have cut it off in great chunks. 
Judy was out of reach of any aid. We could 
not rescue her, we could not — dared not — even 
brighten the age-long hours of her imprison- 
ment. We were forbidden to go on the other 
side of the house of an afternoon. For Cousin 
Laura, so she said herself, was a Victim to 
Insomnia — which is something suffered by 
wide-awake people at night, and which means 
not being able to sleep as much as you would 
like to, and having to drink hot water, or take 
powders, or count sheep over a fence; so she 
was obliged to make up her rest after luncheon 
in her own room — she never was caught nap- 
ping downstairs! — and woe betide the person 
who disturbed her slumbers. We were warned 
beforehand. 

But Judy — my poor old Judy. It made me 
ache all over to picture her lying under the 
bed. I knew in my heart that if I’d been in 


FOR LOVE’S SAKE 


13T 


her place she would have found some way to 
let me know that, though she couldn’t drag me 
out with her own two hands, she was, at least, 
thinking of me. She would have broken a thou- 
sand rules to do it. No punishment would have 
frightened her off. And yet, though I was 
chock-full of longing to do something for her, 
I couldn’t make a single plan. Then suddenly 
I remembered Richard, Coeur de Lion^ and 
how his minstrel sang under his window to 
prove to him that there was still one faithful 
heart left to love him. In an instant I was on 
my feet, in another I had outlined my course 
of action to liiy companions, in a third I had 
started determinedly away. Their cries 
couldn’t restrain me, their flesh-creeping whis- 
pers of the doom that would surely be mine 
simply rolled off me as the water rolls off a 
duck’s back, I bade them go about their own 
business, and then I went on with mine. But 
I was pretty glad they couldn’t see around the 
corner of the house, for my legs got so dread- 
fully wobbly, and each foot seemed to weigh 
a ton. 

Now, I hope you’ll believe that my mind was 
not in a pranking frame just then, neither 


138 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


did I want to do anything to annoy Cousin 
Laura. Far otherwise. I was honestly sorry 
to disturb her rest, but there was no choice in 
the matter. I couldn’t let Judy suffer any 
longer in silence. It came over me, as I puUed 
myself along, that that Blondel fellow may 
have had the chills run up and down his spine, 
too, when he thought of what the Authorities 
might do if they caught him. And still he kept 
on undaunted. He just put whackings, and 
imprisonments, and fines, into one side of the 
balance, and his love for his poor, unhappy 
master into the other, and his love far out- 
weighed everything else. 

When Cousin Laura’s window was reached, 
I took up my stand beneath it and prepared 
to pucker, though my lips were so dry and 
trembly I couldn’t get them into whistling 
shape. I started in on “ Where is my wander- 
ing boy to-night?” but it was such a ghost of 
the real thing that his own mother wouldn’t 
have recognized him. It really wasn’t a go at 
all. A day-old bird would have cheeped louder. 
The trouble was, I was thinking too much of 
Cousin Laura, and of my own skin, and not 
enough of Judy. I soon saw that that would 


FOR LOVE’S SAKE 


1S9 


never do, so I got myself together and bade 
good-by to whistling — it was too remote, and 
unfeeling. Blondel didn’t whistle — except, 
perhaps, one shrill ‘‘Hist, Sire!” It was the 
singing that did the business, and, of course, 
he struck his light guitar, which helped out his 
voice when it quavered too much, while the 
tune kept up his courage, I was guitarless, 
but I had to sail in; so I threw caution to the 
winds — it was do and dare on the moment. 

I took a blade of grass and, placing it be- 
tween my thumbs, I blew one long, ear-split- 
ting squawk, then — as the shivered silence came 
together again — I waited with my heart and 
tongue very near to each other. It seemed a 
thousand years that I stood rooted to the spot, 
yet there was no sign from the closely shut- 
tered window above me to show that my call 
had fallen on waking ears. In other times 
Richard had waved his kingly hand between his 
prison-bars, seeing which, the faithful one 
could proceed more cheerfully with his sere- 
nade. I expected nothing of the kind ; I wasn’t 
such a silly as to think Judy would give any 
sign. She couldn’t. Mum was the word, and 
numb, too — I guess — as far as she was con- 


140 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


cerned. The very least stir, or outcry, on her 
part and the S. P. O. D. would be forever 
wrecked. She had to keep low and still, though 
I knew she wouldn’t drop off to sleep. She 
couldn’t afford to. In sleep you’re not always 
accountable for yourself — you may breathe 
deeper than you wot of, or you may roll, or 
have a falling-do wn-a-precipice feeling and 
start wildly. All these things may be done with 
safety on a bed, but not under one, especially 
if your Cousin Laura is there outstretched 
taking a nap. 

So I felt sure Judy’s pulses were thumping 
quicker because of the daringness of the deed, 
but she had yet to learn who the Doer of it 
was, though she was probably saying to her- 
self that she was almost certain. I opened my 
lips, and after one little gasp — the kind you 
give when the water is icy — I broke into “Wait 
till the clouds roll by.” I sang it through with 
expressiveness, then I tried “I want yer, my 
honey, yes, I do,” — but one verse of that was 
all I could manage, and I quickly exchanged it 
for something almost as appropriate. I was 
just bellowing out at the top of my lungs, “ In 
the swee-eet by-and-hy, we shall meet on 


FOR LOVE’S SAKE 


141 


that ” when a blind was thrown angrily 

open, and a sharp, but still slumbery, voice 
drowned my soaring one. 

“ Miscreant, stop that terrible noise,” it cried. 
“Stop it, do you hear me? Why — Philip — 
Philip Egerton, can I believe my two eyes? 
How dare you, sir, how dare you? Vacate the 
premises at once. I shall tell your grand- 
mother.” 

I went immediately. I thought it safest to 
clear out. You know I hadn’t wanted 
to annoy, but only to cheer one who was 
dearer to me far than Cousin Laura, and I 
had succeeded, though it was at a fearful ex- 
pense to myself. Judy knew, in every part of 
her aching body, that her friends hadn’t for- 
gotten her, that one of their number, at least, 
was ready to go to the stake for her. At the 
same time, now that the deed was done, I 
wasn’t in any very great hurry to get to the 
stake part of the affair. That would come 
all too soon. The noise of opening shutters, 
banged smartly back against the house, made 
me look around in the thick of the flight, and 
I instantly felt, with a queer sinking in 
my chest, that Cousin Laura’s nap was well 


142 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


over for that day. Her windows were letting 
in the last rays pf the setting sun, and she was 
getting ready for the fray with unusual rapid- 
ness. In a short time, too. Granny would be 
back from her drive, and then 

Meanwhile, I was hungry — ^very hungry — 
and prison fare would surely be meted out to 
me as part punishment for my sins, to say the 
least! But I could expect no kindness at 
Sophy’s hands — I was deep in her black looks 
just then — nor could I hook anything from her 
pantry, because she was there getting things 
fixed for our supper. Then I resolved to seek 
out Duke. 

Of all Granny’s servants Duke is our favor- 
ite. He has been butler at Uplands for thirty 
years and is just like one of the family in many 
ways, though in other respects but a humble 
servitor. When he was young he had serious 
thoughts of being an actor, then he discovered 
that Granny couldn’t possibly get on without 
him, so he gave up his own dreams of ambi- 
tion and stayed faithfully at his post. Which 
was no end noble of him. His real, baptized 
name was Romeo Wellington, though no one 
ever used it. Grandfather (this happened long 


FOR LOVE’S SAKE 


143 


ago, you know) dubbed him “Duke,” after 
the iron fellow, and he was always called that. 
And what’s more, he said he liked it, which 
does but prove again his obliging disposi- 
tion. 

I knew where I should find him. He is al- 
ways in his pantry of an afternoon, with a fat, 
blue Shakespeare book open on the shelf before 
him, though never too deep in his studies to 
give you a taste of the real fire if yours isn’t 
a guying frame of mind. When I sneaked 
in he was pegging away, as usual, and started 
up half scared ; then — when he saw who it was 
— he waved me to one side and advanced with 
arms folded on his chest and head lowered. I 
felt it was too serious a time for idle listening. 
He might treat me to pages before I could cut 
in with a word, and Granny would descend in 
her wrath upon me in my famished state, so I 
threw myself on his mercy and told him what 
I’d done — not why I’d done it. 

He stood gaping at me, and at first I 
thought he hadn’t heard, he’s often mooney. 
Then I began all over again, but he stopped 
me, got into a stained-window glass attitude, 
and said in the awfullest accents: 


lU WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


“ * Methought I hyern a v’ice cry, Sleep no mo’, 
Macbeth’s done murdered sleep ” — de innercints 
sleep — 

Sleep dat knots up de ragged sleeves er care, 

De deaf in each day’s life, sore Laban’s bath — * ” 

“Oh! for pity’s sake, Duke,” I interrupted, 
fairly dancing from one foot to the other, 

“ please listen to me ” 

It was no use, he went on with his spouting : 

‘ Still hit cried, “ Sleep no mo’ ! ” ter all de house. 
Phillup’s done murdered sleep, en so Miss Laura 
Shall sleep no mo’ — Miss Laura shall sleep no 
mo’ ! ’ ” 

I 

Above his deep roarings I could hear the 
old clock in the dining-room ticking the mo- 
ments at racing speed, and I almost fancied 
there was the sound of horses’ hoofs coming up 
the drive. I felt all the anguish of a starving 
man; if there’d been a thing in sight that I 
could have grabbed I’d have made a try for it, 
although Duke has muscles. I was desperate. 
“Stow your old Shakespeare,” I fumed, 

“I’ve had enough of him, I’m famished ” 

I dodged as I spoke, for I expected he would 


FOR LOVE’S SAKE 


145 


fire something at me, but instead, he just 
gasped like a fish out of water. At last he 
found his voice. 

“Go to, boy,” he thundered, “bay not me. 
I’ll not endure hit. Huccome you dar set yo’ 
foot in my kingdom? Avaunt en quit my 
sight, or I’ll git atter you des sho’ es you lib, 
I ain’ gwine ter be sassed at my ve’y po’tals. 
Don’ talk ter me, suh. Dere, dere, you sutney 
has yo’ troubles, en I’ll show you marcy, caze 
de quality er marcy has been trained. Dis heart 
er mine won’ neber let you die for lack er a 
dinner, ef dar libs anyt’ing in dis yer pantry. 
I fergib you, my prince er Sleep-wakers I 

“ * Oncet I wuz a lil, teeny boy, 

Wid a hey, ho, de win*, en de rain.* ** 

I could scarcely believe my ears, and still 
less my eyes, for while he was speaking, and 
bursting into song, that noble man moved 
about, gathering things together. First he 
brought out a little pile of lettuce sandwiches, 
next a fistful of sweet biscuits, then he whipped 
off the skin from a monster peach and turned 
some velvety cream over it, and last of all he 
added a chocolate cake to the repast. After 


146 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


which, he stood back and waved his hands like 
a prestodigitator. 

“Fall to en feed, en welcome ter dis yer 
table,” he cried, “ en let not indiagestion wait 
upon yo’ appetite.” 

I pitched in; I didn’t have to be told twice. 
Nor did I stop to thank him; I couldn’t, very 
well, for I had to bolt things lively, but the 
proving of the pudding is the eating of it, and 
he could see for himself how it went down 
with me. J ust as the last crumb vanished there 
came the sound of a clarion voice calling my 
name. 

Duke whisked a napkin quickly over my face 
without so much as a “ By your leave,” but I 
bore no malice. 

“Fo’ de Lawd, boy, yo’ time is come,” he 
stuttered in a grisly whisper, “ dey’s hollerin’ 
fer you, sho’s you bo’n. Away!” 

I reached out and wrung his hand heartily, 
part of me was feeling better, at least, then 
I turned and left him and his voice rolled sol- 
emnly after me : 

Oh, now, forber, far 'well de tranquil min*, 
Far’well content — * ** 


FOR LOVE’S SAKE 147 

I didn’t wait to hear more — it was too un- 
settling — I just rushed headlong to my doom. 
Granny was standing in the hall and, as I 
reached her, I saw by her face that she had 
heard the worst. Still, she asked, with all 
fairness, for my side of the story. 

Well, you know, there was none, except 
the inside, which couldn’t be told, so I had to 
plead guilty to all the charges brought against 
me. I couldn’t give any explanation — 
wouldn’t, she believed. 

“ But you must be able to account for your 
actions,” she almost wailed, “ I’ve never known 
you so disobedient, nor so unmanly, for it’s 
most unmanly to torment anyone who is suf- 
fering. You wake refreshed every morning, 
and you can’t understand what it means to 
endure long, sleepless hours. But poor Cousin 
Laura doesn’t rest well, and sometimes she is 
able to make up her sleep in the afternoon, as 
you know. I am willing to overlook many 
things because of your years, but I am never 
willing to forgive you for being cruel, and 
dishonest.” 

“ I’m neither,” I muttered huskily. There 


148 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

are often moments when a fellow is justified in 
crying, and I would have cried at this junction 
• — ^her words cut into me so — but I had to keep 
a stiff upper lip. 

“ I can only think you were purposely cruel 
to annoy Cousin Laura, when you knew she 
was lying down,” Granny said coldly. “ And 
it is not what I call honest for you to say that 
you were sorry at the time of committing the 
wrong. If you were so sorry, why did you per- 
sist in singing? Answer me that.” 

“ I can’t,” I owned up. “ I had a reason, of 
course, but I can’t ever tell you why I done it. 
Only I did — and I was really and truly sorry 
for Cousin Laura all the time.” 

Granny got crimson, and her foot came 
down rather hard on the floor. 

“Don’t say that again,” she cried sharply. 
“You shall go without your supper ” 

“And I ain’t dishonest,” I interrupted, 
speaking very fast, “ I ain’t the least dishonest. 
You’ll have to punish me some other way, too, 
I’ve already had some bully things to eat.” 

Granny glared dumfoundedly at me. 

“I got Duke to give them to me,” I went 
on. “But you mustn’t blame him, please, it 


FOR LOVE’S SAKE 


149 


was all my prevailing. I was starving and I 
felt you’d be sure to say ‘no supper,’ so I 
thought it was best to be on the safe side. 
He gave me some corking nice rations — ^he’s a 
daisy, and no mistake!” 

“ Since you’ve taken the punishment out of 
my hands,” Granny said darkly, “ I shall have 
to call on your Uncle.” 

It was my turn to stare — and I did, with a 
mouth that wouldn’t stay shut. I was still 
staring when Uncle Tom came into the hall in 
answer to the summons. His face was very 
long and solemn, and he avoided looking my 
way. Anyone could see that Cousin Laura 
had been up and at it — ^pouring her woes into 
his ears. Then Granny told him her side of 
the story, and used those same words — cruel, 
dishonest, unmanly — over and over until they 
seemed to press on me like a ton. But there 
wasn’t the least sense in my saying anything 
■ — I had to keep still. Only it was mighty hard 
to have Uncle Tom think me such a low-down 
chap — though that couldn’t be helped either. 
Granny proceeded to give him certain instruc- 
tions, while he kept muttering something about 
“other people’s children” and showed very 


150 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


plainly by his looks that he wanted to cut the 
whole business. But she wouldn’t let him off, 
so he had to give in. As she turned to leave 
the hall she said to me: 

“When your uncle has finished with you, 
Philip, you are to go directly to bed in the 
little room next to Hannah’s. In the morning 
you will ask Cousin Laura’s pardon, and re- 
main in seclusion for the rest of the day.’* 
Then she whispered: “Not very hard, Tom — 
remember!” And after that she cleared out. 

There was a short and painful silence, which 
Uncle Tom was the first to break. 

“What possessed you to raise such an in- 
fernal rumpus?” he asked savagely. 

I told him what I’d told Granny, and I 
looked him straight in the eyes as I spoke. In 
an instant, though I saw him reach for a 
cane, I felt a load fall off my shoulders. He 
believed in me ! 

He stretched out his free hand and I gave 
him my fist quickly to prove that I bore him no 
ill-will. We shook hands warmly — under- 
standingly — then he moved back a few 
paces. 

“ I hate to do this thing, kid,” he said, “ but 


FOR LOVE’S SAKE 151 

it’s got to be done, so we might as well get it 
over as soon as possible.” 

“That’s all right,” I answered, putting on 
a cheerful grin. “ Don’t you take it to heart, 
my son. And, I say, you needn’t mind Gran- 
ny’s caution — just you hit as hard as ever you 
can.” 


CHAPTER IX 

THE S. P. O. D. IN WORKING TRIM 

Granny really tries to be just, and one 
good thing about her is that she doesn’t ask 
people to peach on a fellow; so that’s how none 
of the other Preventers were dragged into this 
affair, which was as it should be. Of course 
they knew I’d been caught, and punished, too, 
but they didn’t know about that latter business, 
and you can bet your hat I didn’t mean to tell 
them. The matter was strictly between Uncle 
Tom and me — myself. He and I parted the 
best of friends, and I liked him better still the 
next morning. It was Granny who brought 
that about. As I was going to Cousin Laura’s 
room she stopped me. 

“You know the programme for the rest of 
the day, Phil,” she said, as solemn as a judge. 
“ You are to stay in the schoolroom where your 
meals will be served; I have already told the 
other children that they are not to speak to 
you, and I think I may trust you to keep 

159 


THE S. P. O. D. IN WORKING TRIM 153 

silent. I also wish to tell you that I take back 
what I said about ‘ dishonesty ’ and ‘ unmanli- 
ness.’ ” 

Now, wasn’t that handsome? I’d have 
stayed a month of Sundays in the schoolroom 
on bread and water with no ‘hookings,’ and 
no ‘communications,’ if she’d wanted me to. 
And wasn’t Uncle Tom a brick to let her see 
what a man’s belief in a boy’s word was worth? 
I suppose he was quicker in recognizing what 
it stood for than she, because he’d been a boy 
himself. 

After that, I got through my interview with 
Cousin Laura far easier than I’d expected. I 
begged her pardon in the politest way I knew 
how, and let her nag as much as she chose 
without a look, or a sign, to madden her; then 
I retired to my dungeon cell with a light heart. 
But my doom hung over the other Preventers 
like a darksome cloud, and they crept around 
all day as if they’d lost their best friend (which 
was, of course, true for the time being), and 
Judy — in particular — was so forlorn that she 
kept by herself and wouldn’t even speak to 
the crowd. 

Hers had been a sad and grievous history. 


I54i WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


The shades of night had stopped falling and 
were down for keeps before she was able to 
make her escape, because — after Cousin Laura 
had sailed off to her interview with Granny 
— Hortense was forever tidying up the room. 
She’s slow about everything but her tongue, 
which is French and a rattler — and her temper, 
too — French, also, and my! so quick. Judy 
said it was more than double-quick when Hor- 
tense thought she was all alone by herself ; the 
foiled conspirator just lay and quaked, with 
not knowing what the dreadful swishing 
around would bring to light. But nothing hap- 
pened. And at last the moment came when 
she could creep out. Which she did, though 
very stiffly, and then she joined the others in 
no cheerful frame of mind. 

If you will believe it, Judy was especially 
cast down about my deed ; she was, in fact, al- 
most angry. That afternoon, when I gave the 
first sign of being under the window, a little 
glow, she said, took her right in the heart, and 
set her tingling with gladness. Of course 
she guessed who it was instantly — you can’t 
ever fool her! Then the glow died down and 
she hated to have me sing; she wanted me to 


THE S. P. 0. D. IN WORKING TRIM 155 

go away, she kept praying — actually praying 
— to have me go. It was some minutes before 
my serenade woke Cousin Laura, who was 
sleeping out loud like Gilbert at his worst, but 
Judy couldn’t warn me off, and I went on and 
on, till — you know what happened ! The rest of 
her stay under the bed seemed never-ending; 
she kept growing miserabler and miserabler, 
fancying the horrid punishments that would 
fall upon my devoted head. I suppose Rich- 
ard felt that way when Blondel was singing 
his tunefullest. Only what made it worst of all 
to Judy was the fact that she couldn’t tell 
why I’d broken laws, and rest; the honor of 
our new-born society was in her keeping, 
and she couldn’t make my sacrifice all in 
vain. 

Sometimes it pays to stay away from people, 
because when you go back to them again you 
find how much they care for you, and with 
what rejoicings they gather you unto them- 
selves. Gilbert wanted to treat the whole 
crowd to soda-water in my honor, and Jack 
made a speech about the great and noble deed 
I’d done, and how it ought to be told long 
ages after. He proposed a monument of some 


156 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

kind, and the girls were for breaking open 
their banks to start a fund, but I was firm and 
said “Cheese it!” They all agreed, however, 
that my singing was the bravest thing out, and 
they wondered at my grit in keeping it up. 
Judy’s eyes fairly shone and — though she kept 
saying that she truthfully wished I hadn’t done 
it, now that I had — you could see she was al- 
most bursting with pride. Yes, it was pretty 
sweet to come back and have such attentive- 
ness showered upon me, and it was on the tip 
of my tongue to tell what I had really suf- 
fered, what very-far-beneath-the-dignity-of- 
a-President cruelties had been showered upon 
me, then — somehow — though I knew I’d be a 
greater hero in their sight than ever — I kept 
still. It would have hurt Judy more than 
it had me (Uncle Tom’s muscles were flab- 
bier than they looked), to know what deeps 
of deggerydation I had sounded for her sake. 
She’d have hated Uncle Tom, and I’m sure 
she’d have considered Granny a relentless ty- 
rant like those chaps of old. 

If you think all this put a stop to the plan 
about the bells, you are wrong. It only planted 
it firmer in our resolveful breasts, but we had 


THE S. P. O. D. IN WORKING TRIM 157 

brought one thing from our late experience, 
and that was — Caution. The bells were to be 
used for the purpose for which they’d been 
bought, though they couldn’t be sewn broad- 
cast as had been our original idea. One would 
have to do on a gown, and it would have to 
be placed where Hortense’s eagle eyes wouldn’t 
behold it, even if it spoke but faintly to Cousin 
Laura’s ear. The girls fairly thirsted to try 
again and, of course, we let them. They had 
to redeem their failure. We gave them or- 
ders until our throats were sore, and they 
crossed their hearts solemn that they’d do just 
what they were told. At last, after taking 
their young lives in their hands and having 
many a fearful risk, they succeeded in anchor- 
ing three bells. Then we waited. 

Some days passed and with their passing we 
were bothered by two questions: Would the 
bells really ring? and when would Cousin 
Laura wear the gowns? She seemed to steer 
clear of them as if she suspected something 
was in the wind. Finally, when we were sunk 
in despair, word was brought by the Running 
Delegate that Cousin Laura had on her lilac 
muslin. We fellows didn’t know lilac from 


158 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


blue, but we did know what Margery’s mys- 
teriousness meant, and we chortled in our 
sleeves. Almost directly the six of us, singly 
and in pairs, straggled out on the side veranda 
with Sunday-school expressions on our faces, 
which went down because the day was so 
warm. 

Granny and Uncle Tom were sitting there, 
and they brightened right up at sight of us 
(though we did look duller than dull). With 
a haste that showed we were more than wel- 
come, they asked us to stay, and we accepted 
the invitation gladly, our hearts going a bit 
faster in spite of our calm outsides as we took 
our seats. Cousin Laura was in the Blue 
room at Granny’s desk, her lilac gown floating 
around her like a still cloud at even. By and 
by she flnished her letters and came out on the 
veranda, and as she came a low tinkling sound 
was borne upon the summer air. The brave 
little bell was getting busy! I shot one glance 
at Jack — he was as grave as a judge, but he 
winked the eye that was farthest from Granny 
and I knew he had heard. So had Cousin 
Laura. Her eyebrows were all puckered up 
as she stopped suddenly and looked about 


THE S. P. 0. D. IN WORKING TRIM 159 

with queer little jerks of her head, exactly the 
way a fool canary goes on. 

‘‘ I thought I heard one of those cats,” she 
cried crossly. 

“I don’t hear anything,” Granny put in, 
in her soothingest voice, “ and Cook has orders 
to keep them in her own part of the house. 
It’s just fancy on your part, dear.” 

The cats — four in number — were Cook’s 
especial property, and she loved them with a 
love that was more than strong. Jerusha, the 
mother cat, seldom went far from the kitchen, 
but her three kittens had gambolling dis- 
positions and liked to see the world. Their 
names were Goodness, Gracious, Me, and 
Cook had a habit of calling them all at the 
same time. I believe she had the habit long 
before they were born, so that’s how the names 
happened to be handy when they came along. 
They were nice young things, as cats go, and 
as the dogs got along first-rate with them, 
peace reigned serene in every breast but 
one. 

“My fancy doesn’t generally ring bells, 
Janet,” Cousin Laura said, with a high and 
haughty air, “ and I’ve been hearing them more 


160 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


or less all the morning. Not that that need 
disturb anybody. But even the most faithful 
servant will some time grow careless, and it 
is my impression that such is the case now. If 
a woman is allowed to maintain an army of 
cats, it is not to be wondered at if they elude 
her vigilance. We will, however, drop the sub- 
ject.” 

She continued her walk to her chair, swishing 
her skirts the way ladies do when they ain’t 
just pleased with things, and the air was full 
of music. 

“What do you call that?” she demanded, 
stopping again. “ Is that fancy?” 

“I certainly did hear something,” Granny 
owned up, her dear face full of many dilFer- 
ent expressions. 

“ Well, I should say as much,” Cousin Laura 
declared; “I’m glad you’ve come to your 
senses at last.” Then she went on swiftly, 
fiercely, and even prayerfully: “Won’t some- 
body drive away that cat — those cats? For 
mercy sake, children, do try to be useful for 
once in your lives.” 

Down sprawled Gilbert and Judy on the 
floor in a jiffy, while Jack and I made a dash 


THE S. P. 0. D. IN WORKING TRIM 161 

for the vines at the side where we could make 
believe look, and hide our grinning counte- 
nances at the same time. Granny jumped to 
her feet and began calling, “Puss, Puss’’; 
Uncle Tom got up in a great hurry and peered 
under chairs and tables, and the two Delegates 
scrambled around on their hands and knees, 
their faces full of do-and-dare seriousness. 
Everybody was in commotion except Cousin 
Laura, who stood like a graven image in the 
centre of the veranda directing the search. 
Sheila kept circhng about her, nearer and ever 
nearer; at last she jostled against the lilac 
train and gave it (unseen) a hearty shake. 

“There!” cried Cousin Laura, jumping as 
if she’d been shot. 

“Oh! I’m sure that was Me,” Sheila ex- 
claimed with the soberness of a lady deacon. 

I snickered outright. The owdacaciousness 
of that girl was too much for my centre of 
gravity, and Cousin Laura would certainly 
have caught on the next moment, for she 
wasn’t napping, I can tell you, but J ack and 
Judy rushed to the rescue, crying, “Scat!” 
at the top of their united lungs. 

“Where?” shrieked Cousin Laura, and 


16^ WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


again there was a tremendous jingle; she’d 
jumped pretty high. 

“ That sounds like Goodness’ bell,” Margery 
called from under the table, ‘‘but I don’t see 
him anywhere.” 

“Goodness! Don’t goodness me,” Cousin 
Laura snapped. “ Have Cook in at once and 
discharge her — I insist upon it, Janet — I don’t 
care if she does know how to make entrees, 
she doesn’t know other things — and an order 
is an order. You really must impress upon 
her, Janet, that she will have to leave unless 
she obeys you in this matter. My poor nerves 
can’t stand it. Tom, bring me that chair — so 
—now a footstool, please. Yes, I’ll have them 
both right here — right here on this very spot 
—I’m not going to budge an inch. I shall sit 
here without stirring until those cats are caught 
and decapitated.” 

She sat down, but not without a good deal 
of tinkling, and while she tucked her skirts 
closely around her the music went on and on, 
which brought forth more shrieks and more 
angry commands. By and by she got fixed 
and then she kept us on the go, moving chairs, 
shaking up pillows, working a lot, but no 


THE S. P. 0. D. IN WORKING TRIM 163 

giddy young cats jumped out to reward our 
efforts. Calm came back slowly to Cousin 
Laura’s majestic brow, and she breathed the 
breath of relief once more. We sat around 
and waited, sober and quiet outside, but in- 
side almost ready to burst with fun. It grew 
dull, monstrously so, though we comforted our- 
selves with the thought that the circus was 
bound to come again. And yet we missed it 
after all. Cousin Laura was interested in her 
book and kept so quiet that no faintest jingle 
disturbed her peace, and we were obliged to 
trot off soon to our own dinner. 

But the little bell could be trusted to go 
ahead and do its duty, and I rather fancy the 
grown-ups’ luncheon wasn’t an altogether un- 
lively meal. I strolled around careless-like 
after it was over to see Duke. He looked worn 
out and down in the dumps, and when I asked 
in friendly fashion if his head ached, he said no, 
but his back did, and he muttered something 
about “sweet bells jangling, out er tune en 
harsh.” So I could pretty well size up what 
had taken place. Gilbert tackled Cook on his 
own hook and found her crosser than a sick 
bear, whereupon he started in to cheer her up. 


164 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


but she lost her temper completely and cried, 
‘‘ Goodness, Gracious, Me ! ” — though she 
didn’t mean the cats — also, she made a dive for 
a broom, and Gilbert, who is a prudent boy, 
took to his heels. 

Cousin Laura went to bed early that after- 
noon and when she appeared in the evening 
she wore another gown; the lilac thing was a 
morning affair. There was no music about 
her, so — our time being precious — we didn’t 
hang around very long. The next day Judy 
overheard Hortense talking to Hannah, and it 
seems that the cats actually followed Cousin 
Laura to her own room, and Hortense was 
obliged to get down on her hands and knees 
— “ wiz ze palpitayshuns-s-s ” — and look under 
the bed and under every other piece of furni- 
ture. (My! she must have been a figure of 
fun — she’s such a roly-poly.) But nothing 
was discovered — nothing! — so finally Cousin 
Laura dropped off to sleep. Then Hortense 
knew a little peace. Still,, she declared, it 
was all so mysterious that she was going to 
overhaul the gown herself; she thought it 
might be “w’at you call — ’aunted” by a kit- 
ten’s spirit. She is a person of small educa- 


THE S. P. 0. D. IN WORKING TRIM 165 

tion, as you can see from that remark, though 
we were everlastingly grateful to her for not 
being ashamed of the way she’d been brought 
up. If she’d kept her thoughts to herself I 
know not what would have happened. As it 
was, the moment she left Hannah and went 
off to air her grievances to the other servants, 
Judy, who’d been sitting at one side, pretend- 
ing to read — sprinted like a good one to Cousin 
Laura’s closet and had the bell off in a jiffy. 
But she left the tinklers on the other gowns. 
Yet, though we waited long and patiently, we 
heard nothing from them. It so happened that 
one of the dresses was too heavy for summer 
wear, and the other was a muslin which Cousin 
Laura seldom put on. The girls were crazy 
to sew elsewhere, but, as President, I was all 
for delay. We couldn’t afford to be rash. 

In the meantime, as the days passed, the 
S. P. O. D. got into splendid working order; 
we went boldly from one deed to another, and 
knew no gloom anywhere. Uncle Tom came 
in for his share of the pranks, I can tell you, 
though he gave no sign, except for a queer 
gleam in his eyes, which meant that he’d take 
it out of us some day. Nor were the servants 


166 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


neglected, even the great Duke himself didn’t 
escape. You see, I was the only one to have 
that supper, and — Oh ! well, you’ve got to rake 
in everybody when you once start out to pre- 
vent dulness. 


CHAPTER X 
“buttered soles 

At Uplands, if you want to go to the din- 
ing-room from the drawing-room you must 
pass through the great hall, which is built 
with a large open space in the centre, the ceil- 
ing of it being the roof far above. Around 
this opening on each of the two upper storeys 
a gallery runs, and anybody on either floor can 
look over the railing into the hall below and 
see just what is going on there without being 
seen. We children knew this only too well. 
And that’s why we stationed ourselves quietly 
in the flrst gallery the evening Granny gave 
the dinner to the Bishop and his wife. Of 
course, there were other guests besides, but 
those two were the most honored ones. We 
were all dressed up in our spandiest best, for, 
though we weren’t invited to the feast, we were 
expected to appear after it was over and be put 
through our paces. That isn’t just the way 
Granny expressed it, but it’s what she meant. 

167 


168 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


The Bishop and his wife are very fond of 
children, and they’d asked to see us all — us 
four particularly, for Mother had been like 
a dear child of their very own in the long 
ago, because of a little child they’d once 
loved, and though we were strangers to them, 
they were ready to take us to their hearts for 
her sake. 

It was a rainy night, so we hadn’t been able 
to see the guests from the schoolroom win- 
dows, because the carriages and motors were 
closed, but that didn’t cast us down. We’d 
made up our minds to watch them go in to din- 
ner, and as the procession passed beneath us 
we leaned over the balustrade. There was small 
danger of our being noticed. People, at such 
times, don’t gaze up at the stars; they keep 
their eyes on the ground to see how to navi- 
gate, the gentlemen taking care not to trip 
over the ladies’ dresses, or they glance at each 
other while they’re conversational. We had 
naught to fear. 

Granny and the Bishop led the van, both as 
smiling as baskets of chips; he was a big, tall 
man with such a beaming face that Judy said 
he was a dear, quite out loud, and Jack and 


“ BUTTERED SOLES ” 169 

I had to reduce her to silence with our elbows. 
Then a grim looking lady, with a nose like 
a parrot’s, sailed by, hooking along a fat lit- 
tle old gentleman whose shiny forehead went 
back almost to his coat collar; he toddled as 
if he were walking on eggs, though I think 
the trouble was Tight Pumps — he wore such 
a painful grin. Behind them came Cousin 
Laura, very grand and handsome, in a trailing 
gown that sent out lovely jingly sounds as 
she walked. The tinkle came up to us clearly, 
and Sheila instantly whispered, with a giggle, 
that the four bells under the flounce were do- 
ing their little best. We thought they were! 
We knew Cousin Laura could hear the ring- 
a-ching-ching by the way her head kept bob- 
bing. She didn’t pay the least attention to 
Dr. Grantley, who trotted at her side, though 
they’re the greatest of friends. She hadn’t 
any eyes for him, but only for the whisking 
tails of rollicking kittens, seemingly so near, 
and yet so unperceivable ! 

The music passed on. Then two young 
ladies, all smiles, and fun, and prettiness, hove 
into sight, and our girls nearly toppled over 
the railing. But the young men with the young 


170 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


ladies were far too busy looking sideways to 
think of glancing anywhere else, and Uncle 
Tom — who brought up the rear with the 
Bishop’s wife — kept his eyes fixed straight be- 
fore him, though she was just fine, with 
a beamy face like her husband’s. She was 
the only one of the lot to look up — for she 
belonged to the understanding kind — yet she 
didn’t give us away. 'Not she! On the 
moment she seemed to twinkle all over with 
fun„ and she put her hand to her lips as if she 
were going to cough — then, as if she thought 
it wasn’t manners, she took it down again. 
That’s what Uncle Tom would have supposed, 
if he’d seen the action, instead of keeping his 
eyes glued on Miss Sally Day’s pink gown 
and her pretty, crinkly, brown hair. We knew 
better. We caught on quicker than you could 
say Jack Robinson, and the kiss blown our 
way was met by kisses blown back instanter 
by the girls, and by hand-wavings from us 
fellows. 

The next minute the hall was deserted, but 
before I could speak Gilbert pointed out 
what a bully chance we’d missed for Article 
5 on Judy’s list of Simple Pranks. He said 


“BUTTERED SOLES” 


171 


that if we hadn’t “ elevated objects,” we might, 
at least, have dangled them, and he wished 
he’d mentioned it earlier to the Society, for 
he was sure that Dulness had gone into the 
dining room with the second, third, and last 
couples — and being Preventers, we ought to 
have kept it away. We others didn’t contra- 
dict him, though we all felt that if we’d started 
in on Article 5 we’d have been caught and 
sentenced before the assembled dinner-party 
in double-quick time. 

It was dreadfully quiet after the little pro- 
cession had disappeared. We missed the low 
hum of voices and the soft bursts of grown-up 
laughter; we even felt lonely, though there 
were so many of us. Then we crept noise- 
lessly down to the great hall and straightway 
things chirked right up. It was lots more so- 
cialistic there on account of its nearness to the 
dining room; the lights were cheer fuller, too, 
and the flowers sweeter than they’d seemed 
from above; you have to be in the midst of 
things to enjoy them really. We sat around 
as stiff as pokers, the girls, in particular, not 
lolling a bit, on account of their frills, and we 
waited — we kept on waiting. By and by it 


17^ WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


grew as dull in the hall as it had been looking 
down at it. The outside of a dinner-party 
was a terrible thing to us. We asked conun- 
drums in hoarse whispers, we tried “When, 
where, and how do you like it?” and every- 
one was so stupid that the game had to be 
given up. I looked at my pumps gloomily. 
Jack glowered at his, and Gilbert started in 
on a yawn that set us all gaping until our 
jaws almost cracked open. 

Suddenly Judy, as if she couldn’t stand it 
a moment longer, got up with a bounce. Her 
face was quite grim with determination, and 
she didn’t pay the least attention to the sur- 
prise in ours, she just shook out her skirts and 
then tiptoed across the hall to the dining 
room. We sat motionless, gazing after her 
in envy. No one else had dared to peek, 
though I’ll bet we all had thought of it. After 
what seemed like a never-ending stay by the 
curtains, she joined us again and declared that 
we had jollier times at our own table. Lots. 
But we wouldn’t take her word for it. No 
sir-ee. Each in turn went over and peeped in, 
and each came back disgusted. The maiden 
had spoken all too true, Gilbert was the last 


“BUTTERED SOLES’’ 


173 


to go and we thought he wouldn’t hurry, as 
there was no one to slip into his place, but 
he hardly stayed a second. 

“ I couldn’t make out a thing,” he grum- 
bled, “yet the grown-ups are always at us to 
speak distinctly, though they don’t practice 
what they preach by a long shot. They’re a 
crowd of Mumbley-pegs, the whole of ’em. 
And I couldn’t see much either, except Duke 
and the other men circulating around promis- 
cuous. I don’t think there will ever be any 
end to It.” 

“ There’s bound to be, — some time,” I cut 
in with a cheerfulness I was far from feel- 
ing. “Well, you can bet, when I’m a man, 
if I ever have to give such a stupid thing as 
a dinner-party, there won’t be any outside to 
it to drive people to distraction. It’s too aw- 
ful. Let’s play ‘Objects.’” 

The others agreed in don’t-careish tones ; we 
were dreadfully low in our minds, and tired, 
too. If we’d been younger, and still believed 
in childhood’s early tales, we’d have been will- 
ing to declare that the bent figure of an old 
man, with a bag of sand on his back, was 
gliding about among us. But we’d said 


174 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


good-by to such fairy stories long ago, 
only 

“It’s decided that we play ‘Objects,’” I 
said, sitting up straight and speaking in a 
very go-ahead voice, “so I’ll open the ball.” 

Now, I know not if the game is played by 
the Young of all Nations; I used to think 
we’d made it up, until Jack and Sheila came 
to Uplands. They lived remote from us — as 
you may remember — and yet they knew it, 
and — what’s more — they had the nerve to say 
they’d originated it. They called it “ Describ- 
ings.” So others may have brightened drag- 
ging hours with the same sport; it’s a good 
sit-down game for journeys by land, or sea. 
This is how it’s done: You describe some ob- 
ject, visible to the undressed eye, in such a 
roundabout way that the other fellows have 
to put on their thinking-caps to guess what 
you’re driving at. And when they catch on, 
they answer in words that you have to puzzle 
over in your turn. 

I cast a slow glance around. The hall, 
which was lighted with electric lights shining 
softly through big red roses that were 
fastened on the impanelled walls, was fur- 


BUTTERED SOLES ” 175 

nished like a room, with tables, and chairs, 
and dandy dive-ins — we were all seated on one 
of the latter ourselves. When we first came 
to Uplands there was a fire on the big hearth 
and a rug covered the floor completely, but 
as soon as warm weather set in the fire was 
given the go-by, and quite lately, with the com- 
ing of the greater heat. Granny had had the rug 
taken away and the floor, which was of tas- 
selated marble, was left bare. It was very 
cool to look at, and gave out a cheerful ring 
when you stepped on it — which carpets do 
not. I gazed fixedly at one of the electro- 
liers. 

“I see an Object,” I began, ‘‘that makes 
me think of brave explorers in Arctic regions, 
white it is as a frozen sea, bound ” 

“Nuff said, my hearty,” giggled Jack, “I 
see that object too, and Polar bears may glide 
upon it ” 

“ Give us something less hard, something we 
won’t have to trample under foot,” Gilbert 
cried, and the Delegates piped out in a breath : 
“ Silks and satins have lately rustled o’er it.” 

Judy was the only one to be quiet, she sat 
gazing straight before her as though she 


176 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


hadn’t heard a thing. I gave her a wakeful 
poke. 

“A frozen sea,” she murmured dreamily, 
“and the little dark spots are where the ice 
is thinner. It would be a grand skating- 
place.” 

“ Our rollers are upstairs, and they’d make 
no end of a row,” Gilbert objected. 

“I didn’t mean rollers, they’re only for 
babies,” Judy cried, with her nose in the air; 
then she stood up and faced us. “And I 
didn’t mean skating, either,” she went on. 
“Jack was right when he said Polar bears 
would glide upon it — I meant glide, and slide 
— slide as if it were out-of-doors on a winter’s 
day.” She stopped for a moment. “And we 
could do it, too,” she added before any of us 
could speak, “ that is, if we’d something on our 
shoes to make them slippery.” Again there 
was a breathless pause. “Butter would fix 
the business,” she finished. 

If you’ll believe it, her words knocked us 
silly, we hadn’t a thing to say. We could only 
gaze and gaze, our mouths so wide open you’d 
have thought they’d never shut again. 

“I know just where Granny’s table butter 


« BUTTERED SOLES ” ITT 

is kept,” Judy whispered quickly, her “s’s” 
sounding like angry serpents as they tumbled 
over one another, “there won’t be the least 
trouble in the world, and if the store-room is 
locked one of the boys can squirm in through 
the hall window and hand it out.” 

“But ” began Sheila. 

“There’s no but about it,” Judy flashed, 
“it’s all butter. The game is my very own 
origination, and if you don’t like it you can 
just do the other thing. All those wanting to 
be sliders stand up ! ” 

We were on our feet in a jiffy — the whole 
gang of us — there were to be no lookers-on. 
Judy beamed all over with delight, and in a 
few moments our plans were made. Then 
we set out — Judy, Jack, and I — our hearts 
beating like drums in our ears. It was clear 
sailing all the way, and even when the store- 
room was reached, we found that Fortune still 
smiled upon us. The key was in the lock! 
We crept stealthily into the cool, dark place, 
leaving the door ajar that the light from the 
hall might come in, and there on the swinging 
shelf, within easy reach, was the butter on a 
big wooden tray covered by a netting frame. 


178 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


This latter we took off, and Jack and I lifted 
down the tray, which held the yellow oblongs, 
each marked, as we knew well, with the Golden 
Cross dairy stamp. Then we carried it back 
to the others, Judy acting as advance guard 
with her skirts spread wide. Gilbert met us 
at the door and piloted us eagerly forward. 

“They’re pitching into the birds,” he an- 
nounced, “we must hurry.” 

We did. In less than a second we’d put 
an end to the Golden Cross stamp by stamps 
of our own, and the trim shapes were beaten 
down on every side. Then the sport began, 
and, I tell you what, it was glorious! If 
you’ve ever been the outside of anything and 
have known the tediousness of waiting, with 
each moment growing longer than the one be- 
fore, you’ll understand the giddy joy that 
filled us ’most to bursting. We made our own 
shining paths; usually in an out-of-doors’ 
slide you have to take turns, but ours was a 
real sea of glass, and we went hither and 
thither with puckered-up lips to keep back our 
shouts. The polar bears in their native haunts 
never gambolled more light-heartedly than we 
did. The fun grew faster and furiouser, we 



THEN THE SPORT BEGAN, AND I TELL YOU WHAT, IT WAS GLORIOUS 1 




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“BUTTERED SOLES” 


179 


put on more butter, and more again. There 
was plenty for us all. 

Suddenly, in the very midst of our bliss, 
there was a loud bump, and instantly a hideous 
howl burst upon the air and went up to the 
listening stars. Not even the most polaric bear 
could have uttered such a sound. And there 
wasn’t any end to it — it kept on, growing in 
force, and changing from a howl into an un- 
mistakable human yell that was like — no, I 
can’t tell you what it was like — ^you wouldn’t 
believe me. It was so dreadful. „ We tried to 
stop it. We said, “Shish!” and “Shut up!” 
in vain. Margery — it was Margery — was out- 
spread on our glistering sea, and she wouldn’t 
give over bellowing. Others of us had tum- 
bled, had scrambled up again without a mur- 
mur, and had gone on with the sliding. She 
was different. If she were being murdered 
in her own gore she couldn’t have raised more 
of a row — and there was no gore seeable. 

I wanted to pull her up, but she made her- 
self like lead and wouldn’t budge, and just 
then Uncle Tom shot out into the hall, as if 
he’d been fired from a cannon, and scurried 
to the rescue. Half-way in his mad course his 


180 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


foot slipped and down he went — kerflummux! 
— ^measuring his noble length upon the floor. 
The next moment he was up and had reached 
Margery in safety; then he gathered his sor- 
rowing niece in his arms, and she buried her 
face in his shirt front and went on yowling. 
Now, he’d come down with a thud — and what 
with that, and the sounds of woe still continu- 
ing, the whole inside of the dinner-party was 
aroused and out everyone hurried into the hall, 
followed by the terrified servants. I suppose 
they must have thought it was “ battle, murder, 
sudden death, at the very least,” as the verse 
says, for there was amazingness on each coun- 
tenance. 

The first to advance was the young man 
who’d taken Miss Sally Day in to dinner and, 
as he reached the spot where a great hero fell 
(meaning Uncle Tom), down he went likewise 
— only more sprawling — and when he tried to 
get up, which he did by aid of his hands, he 
found it no easy matter. Uncle Tom actually 
grinned over Margery’s head, though he tried 
to hide his face in her curls, but I caught him 
at it, and when he called out, “ Easy there, old 
fellow, the floor seems bewitched,” with a lot 


‘‘BUTTERED SOLES” 


181 


of concern in his voice, he didn’t take me in. 
He might be other things, but he wasn’t sorry. 
The doctor, in the meantime, caring for his 
own skin, and clothes, crawled skilfully around 
tables and chairs, while the Bishop, undaunted 
by what he’d seen, began to navigate across 
the open space. 

‘‘What’s the matter?” screamed Granny. 
“Is Margery killed? Can’t anyone speak?” 

“No, no„ Mother, she’s all right,” Uncle 
Tom answered, “ don’t worry.” 

“ There are no bones broken, Mrs. Ronalds.” 
Dr. Grantley called over his shoulder, “just 
some bumps and bruises. The little maid was 
more frightened than hurt. There’s no cause 
for alarm, but don’t come over here, it isn’t 
safe ” 

“ Not safe? ” echoed Granny. “ Pray, what 
do you mean?” She stared across at the doc- 
tor as if he was gibbering crazy, and from him 
her glance fell to the streaked marble, then she 
looked at us huddled together at one side like 
frightened sheep. “ Children,” she said in the 
solemnest kind of a voice, “ what is the matter? 
What have you been doing to my hall?” 

“It’s butter, Janet,” Cousin Laura shrieked 


183 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


before we could speak. “ There’s the tray yon- 
der, and that trampled stuff in it is your best 
print butter.” 

She swung her skirts high and took a step 
nearer Granny. Instantly a loud, not-going- 
to-get-through-in-a-hurry jingling burst upon 
the air, at which sound she tottered unsteadily, 
uncertain whether to go forward,, or back. 

“Oh! won’t someone drive away that cat 
— those cats,” she begged, “ I’m sure I hear 
bells ” 

“Why, they’re right on your gown,” Miss 
Sally cried, for she’d caught a glimpse of the 
tinkling cymbals. 

The news of this unpleasant contagiousness 
was too much for Cousin Laura. She gave 
one wild screech and toppled against the par- 
rot-nosed lady, who fell back in her turn, cry- 
ing, “ Oh, dear 1 ” rather crossly, though she got 
the better of her temper the next moment and 
said, in a sugary sweet voice, that it didn’t 
matter at all, she quite understood poor dear 
Miss Marbury’s upsetting nerves ; she’d never 
liked cats, either. 

I grinned. I didn’t know what the others 
did, I’d no thought of them, nor of Granny’s 


“BUTTERED SOLES” 


183 


wrath hanging over our heads like that Damo- 
somebody’s sword. I simply couldn’t keep 
my face straight, even though I felt that 
we were found out all along the line. Sud- 
denly I met Miss Sally’s eyes and I saw by 
the twinkle in them that she was on to our 
game. Quick as a wink she stooped and caught 
Cousin Laura’s train, passing her hand rapidly 
along the flounce, then she gave the gown a 
hearty shake without waking the least tinkle 
from a bell. 

“ There’s nothing here now, Miss Marbury,” 
she said, as she stood up, ‘‘ I fancy we’ve 
routed Puss pretty efi*ectually.” Her voice 
was very gentle and it soothed Cousin Laura 
almost as much as her words did, then she 
looked at me again and — well, I didn’t wonder 
at Uncle Tom very much after that. 

The bell scare had caused a momentary lull 
in Granny’s investigations, but we were not to 
be spared any longer, 

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked 
sharply. 

“ It was just our Prevention of Dulness in 
Society Club,” Sheila cried, “ we couldn’t stand 
the dinner.” 


184 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


The Bishop coughed in his handkerchief — 
such a spluttery, choking cough I wondered 
how Mrs. Bishop could look so smiling and 
unworried; but she only said, quite laudably: 

“Well, I declare, the dears — the little 
dears.” 

“ And is this a shining example of what your 
club can do ? ” Granny demanded, pointing ma- 
jestically at the floor. 

“ That’s butter,” Judy faltered; “ it was my 
own origination, so I hope you won’t blame 
the others.” 

“Butter!” ejaculated Uncle Tom and the 
other hero in a breath, then they glanced at 
their clothes and said nothing, though they 
certainly did look volumes. 

Granny motioned to me, and I stepped out 
from the rest. In my solitariness I felt like 
a lonely bark tossed on a wide and watery 
waste, but there was no help for me. I was 
commanded to speak, and speak I had to. At 
first my voice sounded very faint in my ears, 
though, as I went on, it got more used to the 
silence and grew stronger, especially as Miss 
Sally leaned forward so I could see her smil- 
ing face just behind Granny’s frowning one. 


‘‘BUTTERED SOLES” 


185 


Somehow, my heart couldn’t help growing 
lighter; she seemed to understand about the 
outside of things anyway, and my courage 
stopped oozing out at my finger-tips directly. 
I put my shoulders back then, and told the 
whole story, and I fitted the blame where it 
rightfully belonged — ^you’d better believe that! 
It was all well enough for Judy to say that 
she was the guilty person, she was not. There 
was Another! If I — Philip Egerton — ^hadn’t 
started “Objects,” and hadn’t described the 
floor, none of this sliding business would ever 
have taken place ; and we should have remained 
pattern children that any dinner-party-giving 
grandmother would have been proud of. So I 
didn’t make mince-meat of the truth, but I let 
them have it right out from the shoulder. And 
my! when I came to the end the hall was as 
still as a church. 

Granny was quiet for what seemed a very 
long time and no one spoke. The Bishop put 
his handkerchief up to his face, though I didn’t 
hear him cough, and Mrs. Bishop shook her 
head — not from side to side, which means re- 
proving (as everybody knows!), but just up 
and down very gently, and her smile grew 


186 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


sweeter and more far-awayish. Miss Sally’s 
face wore a smile, too, one of the soft kind, 
while the little, fat old gentleman lost his com- 
pany grin and was ever so much nicer to look 
upon. Then the hush was broken by the Par- 
rot-lady murmuring, in a voice that carried to 
the farthest corner of the hall, “Did you 
ever?” and immediately there was an unmis- 
takably familiar rustle — without bells. 

Granny was roused to action. 

In an instant she turned to the servants, who 
were crowded, grinning around the doorway, 
and ordered them to fetch druggets ! — cloths 1 ! 
— Anything!!! You can bet, then, that there 
was racing and chasing through the hall; the 
emotion young Lochinvar caused when he ran 
off with the other fellow’s girl, was nothing to 
it. But we weren’t allowed to budge ; we stood 
as if rooted to the spot — the six of us, for 
Uncle Tom had put Margery down — and 
quickly. Time had dried the maiden’s tears 
(and also a handkerchief), and she clung re- 
morsefully to Judy, though I kept telling her 
to be an oak — not a vine. Truthfully, we were 
none of us very oak-like; we couldn’t help be- 
ing droopy, and we got droopier as the minutes 


‘‘BUTTERED SOLES” 


187 


passed. The dinner people stared at us as if 
we were creatures from another sphere, all the 
softness was gone from their faces, and they 
just grinned instead — even to the Bishop. 

When the druggets were heaped on the floor. 
Granny issued a new command — one that filled 
us all with horror. We were to be carried up- 
stairs to bed. There were to be no more tracks 
from our wayward feet! It was a moment of 
deepest deggerydation, but we didn’t dare mu- 
tiny; we had to submit without a murmur. 
Still, I couldn’t help wondering, as I was 
borne away heels uppermost by Duke, how 
they were going to manage about Uncle Tom, 
and the young man, and the Bishop himself. 
Their soles were almost as bad as our own. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE LAST STRAW 

The next week was one of lectures, lines, 
solitary imprisonment for several hours each 
day — and it was, also, absolutely butterless. 
Dry bread for breakfast, dinner, and supper; 
no hard sauce for our pudding (and this was 
the season for peach roly-poly!), no puddings 
really, except rice — which we all detest — 
though, when it isn’t the “Poor man’s” kind 
and has a plenteous sprinkling of raisins, and 
doesn’t look shiveringly white, but wears a 
golden glow (which, from the lack of it, we 
discovered was caused by something that 
wasn’t for us), it’s not half bad. 

Still, if we couldn’t eat butter we were re- 
minded of it continually in other ways. Not 
by Granny. She isn’t that sort. Except when 
the hateful term occurred in her preachings 
she never mentioned it, but Cousin Laura was 
different — she seemed able to talk of nothing 

else. You’d have said she had butter on the 
188 


THE LAST STRAW 


189 


brain. And Hannah was just such another 
with her parts of speech, while Sophy not only 
jawed about it, but she actually had the nerve 
to put the real, genuine article on the table 
several times, only to grab it up the next 
moment from under our very eyes, with the 
remark that she was “that absent-minded!” 
There was torture everywhere and from every- 
one. You may think, perhaps,, that Uncle 
Tom, being a man — and having been a boy — 
wouldn’t stoop to jump on us in our down- 
fallen state. You are wrong. He used both 
feet, and was as fond of airing the word as 
those who knew no better. On one occasion 
he even made Judy get her Bible and look up 
Judges V;25, and when she read it out, at 
his command, he roared so loud that she had 
to giggle, and her laugh is the infecting kind 
— we simply couldn’t help joining in. 

He was very generous with his company 
that week, appearing at the most unexpected 
times and never disappearing without pepper- 
ing us with small shot. One day when we 
were at dinner he hove in sight with a mon- 
strous bunch of “ Butter-and-eggs ” which he 
gave to Sophy, saying that he’d brought it to 


190 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


garnish our frugal board, as well as to cheer 
our drooping spirits. She stuck the hideous 
things into a vase and placed it in the mid- 
dle of the table, while he went on about them 
as if they were the most beautiful blossoms 
he’d ever seen. Then he helped himself to 
one of the stalks and, shaking it in our faces, 
spouted out: 

** Tis but a little country flower. 

Without a scent, it’s true. 

Though if it’s rank and smells to heaven — 

The butter will not do.” 


After which, he gazed sorrowfully around, de- 
claring that there was no reason why we 
should keep our noses so persistently in the 
air. They went a trifle higher, that being the 
only answer we had for his fooling. We were 
as solemn as owls — the whole crew of us — 
except Margery, and she snickered outright. 
But you can never depend on her — little 
laughing, crying, backsliding Delegate! She 
was pretty quickly reduced to order, I can 
tell you. Uncle Tom stood looking at us 
gravely for a few moments (and I must say, 
I never saw anyone whose face could put on 


THE LAST STRAW 


191 


SO many differing expressions), then he made 
us a low bow. 

“My honored friends,” he said in a shaky 
voice, as if there were tears in it, “I must 
bid you a fond farewell. I am not a member 
of your distinguished club, though it has ever 
been my aim in Ufe to prevent dulness in 
society, and I can lay the flattering unction 
to my soul that there have been times when 
I’ve not lived in vain. Many have smiled to 
see me come, and more have smiled to see 
me go away. You do not belong to either 
faction. Thus far I’ve been unable to dispel 
the gloom that envelops your youthful brows. 
You will have none of me. I have mourned 
with you, but you would not mourn, I have 
piped to you, but you would not pipe, so we 
must part. Yet, ere I go, let me ask one 
simple question: If Margery should take a 
walk abroad in a bright red cloak and should 
encounter, upon a lonely, narrow path, an 
aged and ill-tempered goat, what would hap- 
pen? What would happen? I pause for a 
reply.” 

We kept up a chilling silence, though Jack 
said afterwards that he could have answered; 


19^ WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

he’d heard the conundrum before. For it 
was nothing but a silly old conundrum that 
our uncle had doctored up to suit his 
purpose. 

“What!” he cried, clutching his hair as if 
he were going to pull it out by the roots, 
“you have no word to say? You are indif- 
ferent to the maiden’s fate? But no! Me- 
thinks you are tongue-tied by the thought of 
woe, and you wish me to impart the dreadful 
truth to you. Fortify yourselves. It is this: 
Margery would turn into a scarlet runner, 
and the goat would turn to butt her. I once 
more take my leave.” 

This is a sample of the way we were pitched 
into all the time. It was just as if the grown- 
ups had taken our motto, “A prank a day,” 
and had changed it into “ A persecution a day 
keeps dulness away.” They seemed to find 
no end of fun in it. Well, at least, we didn’t 
let them see that we minded — we were pretty 
game, and we didn’t get mad, either, which 
was one thing in our favor. Then the last 
straw came. And it was from Miss 
Sally. 

Toward the close of the week Granny sent 


THE LAST STRAW 


193 


for us and we obeyed the summons, shaking 
in our boots, and wondering what new pun- 
ishments were to be showered upon us. But we 
were soon to know. When we reached the 
Blue room we found Cousin Laura and Uncle 
Tom already there, making no attempt to hide 
their interest in our future fate. Which was 
pretty low-down of them. Why, they didn’t 
even pretend to bury their grins in a hook, 
the way grown-ups have a trick of doing. 
Granny signalled me out instantly and pointed 
to a large package on the table. There was 
no need to go close to read the subscription in 
big black letters: “Master Philip Egerton,” 
though I must own that the words danced 
queerly up and down. I got a bit red and 
flustrated with eight pairs of eyes, not count- 
ing the dogs’, gazing for all they were worth, 
but I didn’t muff the knots much, though it 
did seem forever before they were unfastened 
and the outer wrappings fell off. Inside, was 
a big box tied up in white, candy-store paper 
(you know it anywhere) with yellow ribbons. 
I tackled the bow like lightning, and the first 
thing I found was a card with some writing 
on it, which I read aloud; 


194 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


‘‘ ‘ For Master Philip Egerton and the other 
Preventers, with Miss Sally’s love.’” 

All the Idds pressed nearer, their eyes like 
saucers, while Granny gave such a pleased 
little laugh and Uncle Tom creaked his chair 
— I knew it was his chair, though I didn’t turn 
around. Off came the paper helter-skelter, and 
there was the box itself — a fine, glazy yellow. 
Well, the lid didn’t stay on long, you can bet, 
though for one moment I paused at the flum- 
mery lace business on top and the pair of 
nippers (give me fingers every time!), the 
next I had swept that rubbish away and then, 
from the six of us — as if we had only one 
brain to think with, and only one tongue to 
speak with — a single word burst upon the air. 

“ Buttercups!” 

That’s the way Miss Sally had the laugh 
on us. Buttercups — buttercups — everywhere. 
Not the simple flowers of the field by which 
you find out if a person cares for butter, or 
not, but the far better kind the candy-store 
people make. There they were before us in 
their different colors, and Solomon in all his 
glory couldn’t come up to their gorgeousness. 
Brown, pink, green, violet, white, blue, yellow 


THE LAST STRAW 


195 


— ^such quantities of them — such quantities! 
The box was a ten-pounder. After our first 
surprise had cooled down we stood gloating 
over our treasures. Buttercups do not melt in ' 
the mouth, being of a more lasting, crunch- 
able nature, but I’ve never seen the boy or 
girl yet who couldn’t make away with a lot. 
Fig-filled, fruit-filled, cream-filled, nut-filled, 
they’re pretty bully eating, and Miss Sally 
knew what she was about. We didn’t mind 
such persecuting as hers! 

I carried the box right over to Granny for 
her to have the first pick — and suddenly the 
prettiest little rosy glow went racing all over 
her face, even up to her hair, and her eyes got 
wet — though they were smiling, too. But she 
didn’t speak, nor make the least motion to take 
any candies. Cousin Laura gave a short 
cough. 

“ They will keep,” she said solenmly. 

And then I understood. It was just another 
way of saying, “Be firm!” 

I gritted my teeth so a certain sound 
wouldn’t get through. On the instant the box 
seemed to weigh a ton, I could scarcely hold 
it. And the room was so queerly quiet. Back 


196 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


of me there was a little stir among the Pre- 
venters, and a low “ ahl ’’ like the rustle a baby 
breeze makes among the leaves, though it was 
so faint and so quickly over, it was almost as if 
it hadn’t been. Uncle Tom’s chair creaked 
loudly — and then the silence grew. Somehow, 
I felt like that tantalized fellow in the Greek 
story-book, the one who has the water just out 
of reach of his lips — and him dying of thirst 
— and the lovely branches of fruit above his 
head that slip beyond the grasp of his fingers 
the moment he tries to pick any. It wouldn’t 
have been quite so hard if the Buttercups had 
been on the table; but to have them so near 
was too much — too screw-turningly much for 
humane nature to endure. If this was part of 
Miss Sally’s joke, I hated her for it. It was 
the most unkindest cut of all. 

“Perhaps,” said Cousin Laura in a very 
queer voice, “ this is the last day ” 

“ The last minute,” cried Granny with sud- 
den energy. Then she took me — box and all 
— into her grandmotherly arms. It was a lit- 
tle bad for the buttercups, but the Delegates 
went down on their hands and knees before 
Shadow and Liberty could cut in; and what’s 


THE LAST STRAW 


197 


more, though they got up with their fists full, 
they dumped the whole lot back into the box. 

It’s a strange thing that grown-ups don’t 
care much for candy, though you may be ever 
so pressing. Granny would only take two but- 
tercups, and Cousin Laura was satisfied with 
three. She really seemed satisfied and more 
smiling than I’d ever seen her; even when she 
refused my continuous off ers she couldn't have 
been politer if I’d been Dr. Grantley himself. 
Uncle Tom wouldn’t have any at all, though 
we circulated the box frequentious in his direc- 
tion; he was puffing away like fury at his cig- 
arette. Then we kids sailed in, not for lady- 
like twos and threes, thank you, but much more 
humanly, and we stood around munching and 
crunching, at peace with all the world. 

Presently Granny told us that she’d quite 
forgiven the butter episode, though it had been 
a wicked prank on our part, and might have 
resulted most seriously. As matters had 
turned out only the fioor had suffered, and we 
ought to feel very grateful that no harm had 
befallen Margery, or Uncle Tom, or Mr. Dud- 
ley, for each had had a miraculous escape. And 
she went on to say that one doesn’t have to go 


198 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


abroad to meet with grave accidents, they often 
occur right in one’s own home; people have 
broken their arms, or legs, or injured their 
spines unrecoverishly, just in slipping on the 
floor, or tumbling down a step or two (the 
duffers) . 

Her voice was so solemn that suddenly we 
saw ourselves almost murderers. Folks have 
died of broken legs ere now, yet we had truth- 
fully meant no harm. We’d only thought of 
the fun, but — as the proverb says — one man’s 
meat will disagree with another, and you never 
can tell how things will turn out, nor what 
direful consequences will come trailing after. 
The picture of the slain that might have been 
heaped at our very doors made us look so dis- 
mal that Granny ojdered us to cheer up at 
once. With one accord we began to grin, 
though not for long; the next we knew, she 
asked us to promise not to play any more 
pranks. That was a floorer! One of the sa- 
credest things in our family, and in Jack’s, too, 
for he is a branch, is a promise. It’s some- 
thing all the king’s horses and all the king’s 
men cannot make you break. We didn’t want 
to anger Granny again when she’d just for- 


THE LAST STRAW 


199 


given us for a black, though unthinking, deed, 
but of course we couldn’t do as she wished. 
How could we say that we wouldn’t ever — 
ever — play pranks again, when we were we? 
It was impossible. Not one of us spoke. 

Granny saw the difficulty in a flash — some- 
times she is quite surprisingly quick — and she 
wasn’t a mite mad. She actually begged our 
pardons for making such a demand. She said 
it wasn’t reasonable, and she realized as we 
did — that a promise must be faithfully kept; 
so she would only ask us to be considerate of 
others, and not to play tricks that might hurt 
them in their bodies, or in their feelings. She 
wanted us to have as much sport as possible, 
but it must be fair sport — she left that to our 
honor — and she finished up by saying, “ ‘ a lit- 
tle nonsense, now and then, is relished by the 
wisest men.’ ” 

We huzzaed when she got through fit to 
raise the roof, then, as soon as we were quiet 
again, I asked if we might go and give the serv- 
ants some of our candy, and she just nodded 
her head — quick, up-and-down nods — her eyes 
very sweet and smiling. W^e cleared out in- 
stanter, going first to find Hannah; then we 


200 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

bore down on the kitchen and from there we 
went out to the stables, where the men were tre- 
mendously glad to see us. While we were sit- 
ting around, as happy as clams, J udy suddenly 
cried out that we’d forgotten poor Duke, so 
back we trailed to the house — with all the dogs 
(they were as near as brothers and sisters, 
nearer — really — and more demanding). The 
box, by this time, was much hghter, though the 
bottom was still a long ways from being seen. 
Duke was in his pantry with the blue Shake- 
speare propped open on the shelf, but he didn’t 
hear us on account of the noise he was making 
as he ramped up and down crying : 

“ * Is dis yer a dagger dat I see befo* me 

De han’le to’ards my ban’? 

Come, let me cluteh thee — " ** 

At this junction I poked the box forward 
and his groping fingers came bang up against 
it, spilling out a shower of candies for which 
Delegates and dogs made a grand rush. In 
the scrimmage Duke toppled back, frightened 
half out of his seven senses, though he got him- 
self together quickly and aimed a blow at Lib- 
erty, who scampered to his usual shelter in 
Judy’s arms. I held out the box again to quiet 
Duke’s noble wrath, and his brow cleared 


THE LAST STRAW 


201 


right off when he saw that we’d come in peace, 
and not in war. He stretched out his hand 
to help himself — we’d earlier thrown away 
those silly nippers, though now we regretted 
our rash act. 

“ ‘ Sweets ter de sweets,’ ” he cried, as he 
raked them in, then he added, “ but stay! I’ll 
take a libbuty, which I hopes old Marse 
Shakespeare will excuse, en say instid, sweets 
from de sweet, ‘en damned be him that fust 
cries, “hoF, enuff!””’ 

We fell back in sheer amazedness, all but 
Sheila, and she grabbed his arm between her 
two hands, though honestly she wasn’t think- 
ing of the buttercups at all. 

“ Oh, Duke! ” she gasped in a voice of hor- 
ror, “ Granny doesn’t allow that — and you 
know it.” 

Duke looked down at her, and understand- 
ing broke slowly o’er his face. 

“Well, ole Miss will hab ter settle dat wid 
ole Marse Shakespeare,” he chuckled, “I ain’ 
ter blame fer dose words, honey. Dat’s w’at 
dey call a poet’s licunse. But bless yo’ butious 
orbs, lil’ lady, I’d no idee I’d done robbed you 
so. ‘ Take oh! take dose sweets erway ! ’ ” 

We said very politely that he was welcome 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

to all he wanted, we were no In j un-givers, but 
he declared he hadn’t noticed what he was do- 
ing; so we let him put back a handful and 
liked him the better for it. Then we decamped 
and, as we went, we heard him mutter to him- 
self : “ ‘ Hit is de cause — hit is de cause, my 
soul.’ ” 

After leaving him we went around to the 
side veranda. Granny and Cousin Laura had 
gone driving, and we wanted to talk over 
things at our ease; but Uncle Tom was sitting 
there all by his lonely. He’d given over smok- 
ing, and when we offered the candy again he 
seemed to have changed his mind, for he put 
his fist right into the box. The next moment 
he drew it out, crying: 

“Hullol what’s this?” 

We gathered close about him; it was such a 
day of surprises. He was holding a little wad 
of white tissue paper between his fingers which 
he tossed straightway to me. I tore it open 
quicker than you could say Jack R., and there 
lay four shiny brass bells. 

“ Now what in time ” began Uncle Tom. 

“ Mum’s the word,” cried Gilbert warningly. 

But even as he spoke the Talking Delegate 


THE LAST STRAW 


203 


hunched up her shoulders and shrieked out in 
a voice that was exactly like a certain famil- 
iar one: “0-oh! won’t somebody drive away 
that cat — those cats?’^ 

“Mum!” cautioned Judy. 

Too late 1 

“You little villains,” roared Uncle Tom. 
Then he rocked backward and forward with 
his hand on his side. “Well, this beats me,” 
he went on, “ ‘ this is rayther too rich, as Sam 
Weller said the Young Lady told the Pastry 
Cook, when he gave her a Pork Pie as was 
all fat.’ You little villains!” 

“Mum?” begged Judy. 

“ Cut me in two, I won’t,” he giggled, when 
he could get his breath. 

So you see what a really nice fellow he was 
after all. We knew we could trust him 
through thick and thin; our secret was abso- 
lutely safe in his keeping. Later that same 
afternoon when he and I were together — the 
others had gone off somewhere, all but Larry 
who was at my feet — Uncle Tom looked over 
at me. 

“Sally’s no end of a trump, isn’t she?” he 
demanded. 


^04 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

“Miss Sally,” I said, for I knew what was 
manners. 

“ Well, Miss Sally then,” he returned, with 
a laugh that was half ashamed, and half a 
jumble of masterfulness and conceit, “ but not 
for long if I can help it.” 

I pulled out Larry’s silky ears two or three 
times in silence. 

“Ah! she’ll have something to say about 
that,” I hinted at last, just to take the wind 
out of his sails. 

He stared at me, his face growing very grave 
and thoughtful; it was earnester that way, and 
I liked it better, somehow, than when he was 
grinning and carrying on. After a moment he 
said, with a little unsteady laugh which was 
different from his other one — and far nicer; 

“You’re right, she will have something to 
say about it — all, really, but I hope you’ll 
speak a good word for me. Won’t you, old 
fellow?” 

I held out my hand and we shook on the spot. 

“ You bet,” I cried. 


CHAPTER XII 

AN AFTERNOON CALL 

We were taken back into favor at the time 
of the Feast of the Buttercups, though when- 
ever the six of us were gathered together — 
talking of nothing in particular, I give you my 
word for it — people looked at us suspiciously 
as if they thought we were up to fresh mis- 
chief, and they wondered if they’d he lucky 
enough to escape from our clutches. Even if 
we’d wanted to play a prank it would have 
been almost impossible. But we’d had enough 
of pranks just then, and had lost some of the 
bold and glowing spirits of born Preventers. 

All this ought to have been seen by those 
around us, instead of which, whatever hap- 
pened — no matter if we were innocent and 
could prove it, too — ^it was placed to our credit. 
If Hannah’s spectacles were pushed back in 
her hair, as happened forty ’leven times a day, 
her first cry was: “ Drat those children! ” And 
in one form, or another, we were dratted 

205 


206 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


throughout the entire household. Brooms miss- 
ing, scissors mislaid, horses lame, chicken with 
the pip — anything! — we were to blame. But 
it really was a little too hard when Danby’s 
hay fever appeared as usual that he should de- 
clare we were scattering pepper around — a 
thing we hadn’t dreamed of! He lay in wait 
for Jack and me, and we had to struggle long 
and prayerfully with him before he would be- 
lieve us and let us go. 

So you see there was nothing left for us to 
do but to live down the base and evil reports 
which were not confined to Uplands alone. 
They’d crept out, somehow, beyond the gates, 
as we found whene’er we took our walks 
abroad; everywhere people stared at us as if 
we belonged to a travelling circus. We often 
overheard remarks, too, about Terrors, and 
Cautions, and Et Ceteras. These last — these 
Et Ceteras — let me tell you, were most dread- 
ful, and Judy said she was glad for the only 
moment in her life that Manila was so far 
away. This living-down business was far from 
easy, still we meant to carry it through, or 
know the reason why. 

One of the first things we did to prove that 


AN AFTERNOON CALL ^07 

we’d really turned over a new leaf was to go to 
see Miss Sally. We wanted to thank her for 
the buttercups and it seemed more interesting 
to go to her house than to write a stupid let- 
ter. Granny let us have our choice, and only 
two voices were for writing, so the feet carried 
it. At least we supposed they had, but when 
the time for starting came the omnibus was at 
the door and we saw with delight that we were 
to drive over to Boxwood — the Days’ place. 
This was much better than we’d expected, and 
we didn’t let the cautions that Granny and 
Cousin Laura showered upon us weigh down 
our gay and soaring spirits. Of course we 
wouldn’t disgrace them. What did they take 
us for? We wouldn’t loll in our chairs, or 
grin, or giggle senselessly, or monopolize the 
conversation; we would just keep in mind all 
the while that we were making an afternoon 
call. And it wasn’t necessary for Cousin 
Laura to tell us over and over to contort our- 
selves with dignity, as she always did. That 
was just what we meant to do. I met Uncle 
Tom’s eye as we started, and let him see that I 
wouldn’t forget the promise I’d made him a 
few days before. He looked as if he wished he 


208 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


was going along, too, but we’d begged that 
there should be no taggers, and as it was our 
own affair. Granny said we might do as we 
pleased. So we waved a friendly farewell to 
our watching relations, William, who was 
driving, cracked his whip, and off we went at 
a lively pace. 

Just outside the gates we were held up by 
two desperate ruffians as the coaches used to 
be in ye olden times. All unexpectedly Shadow 
and Liberty made a dash from the shrubbery 
with a great yowl of “ Stand, and let us enter! ” 
How long they’d been waiting for us, no one 
knew, but of course they came off victorious. 
It takes a pretty cold-blooded heart of stone to 
resist a dog’s wishful, begging eyes, and Wil- 
liam had nothing to say in the matter, as we 
soon pointed out to him. Granny hadn’t said 
the dogs shouldn’t go, she hadn’t said anything 
about them; but she knew it was a thankful 
expedition, and Shadow and Liberty had had 
more than their share of the candies, so if they 
wanted to remember their manners, they were 
to be encouraged, not frowned upon. In the 
end William had to listen to the voices of rea- 
son, and in the dogs scrambled. They walked 


AN AFTERNOON CALL 


209 


all over us in their joy, and sat first on one and 
then on another ; they were what Cousin Laura 
calls Perpetual commotion, but we couldn’t be 
mad at them. They felt, with us, that it was 
a grand thing to be making afternoon calls 
and their spirits bubbled over. William looked 
as if he were having the time of his life and 
kept his head over his shoulder, grinning the 
whole way. We didn’t mind; we were glad 
to let the simple man hear what we intended 
to say and do. I don’t suppose he’d many 
chances of knowing how folks disported them- 
selves in real society. 

As we turned into Boxwood, however, our 
racket died down — like a wind at even — and 
we glanced at one another fearfully and grew 
still — stiller — with each passing moment. The 
girls tried to iron their gowns with anxious 
pats. They’d been martyrs to the paws and 
they showed it, too, in lots of unsmooth-out- 
able creases; we fellows had come off better, 
but we pulled up our collars, put on company 
smirks, and sat as straight as rulers. As for 
the dogs they got kinder green and yallery 
with solemnness, while William’s eyes became 
glued to the horses’ ears. So we dashed up the 


210 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


drive, stopping in great style at the house, and 
then we saw a sight that froze the marrow in 
our veins, and made our hearts cease from beat- 
ing. The veranda was full of people. 

And I had to get out first — I had to! I 
couldn’t order William to drive on — to keep 
on driving — we liked that better. We had 
reached our journey’s end, and I had to get out. 
I don’t know how I ever did it, but I think 
Judy’s pokes gave me the first start and per- 
haps Miss Sally’s smiling face helped, too; 
she’d run quickly down to the omnibus steps 
and stood there calling gaily to us. I floun- 
dered somehow to the ground and wrung her 
hand as if it were a pump-handle, then I turned 
to make the others hurry and suddenly it 
seemed as if there were a million of them. 
They kept coming, and coming — boys, and 
girls, and dogs — dogs, and girls, and boys — 
until I thought there would never be any end 
to them. Miss Sally didn’t appear to see any- 
thing unusual, but as soon as they were all 
out and standing huddled together like sheep 
about to be butchered, she kissed the girls, and 
shook hands with Jack and Gilbert. Then 
William drove off with a light and careless 


AN AFTERNOON CALL 


211 


air and we joined the assemblage assembled on 
the veranda. 

JNIrs. Day gave us a finger to shake ; she also 
said she was glad to see us in a voice that 
didn’t have any back-bone to it. She didn’t 
take us in by a long shot, though her face did 
wear a ready-to-order smile. After welcom- 
ing us, she went back to a group of visiting 
ladies and began to talk low and wag her head 
— you know how. It wasn’t hard to guess 
what she was driving at, especially as a mo- 
ment later one of the visitors called to two 
flabby little imps and made them sit close to 
her side, where they stared unpolitely at us. 
Four or five younger ladies were standing 
chattering to some young men — Mr. Dudley, 
who’d come a cropper on our hall floor, being 
of the number. He glared fiercely at us, which 
did but prove that he hadn’t forgiven and for- 
gotten. Some people are like that — they re- 
member bruises entirely too long ! There were 
also two white-haired gentlemen present, who 
winked at me in friendly fashion. I was for 
returning the wink with a compound one, when 
the agedest prodded my ribs and asked, with a 
fat chuckle, if butter was still in the market.. 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


So I knew that if they were all strangers to 
us we were not unknown to them — and I was 
dumb. 

We sat down on near-by chairs, we boys in 
a row with Judy next to Gilbert, and we didn’t 
loll — not one of us — we sat quite far forward, 
very bolt upright, and comfort wasn’t in our 
looks, nor in our bodies. Nor did we speak; all 
the fine things we had planned to say had 
flown to the winds. Miss Sally had to take 
care of the grown-ups, so we didn’t blame her 
because she didn’t talk to us. At least there 
was no sting of remembering in her eyes; she 
was just as pleased as she could be at our com- 
ing and showed it, too, whenever she looked our 
way. If she’d been all by herself, we’d have 
had a bully time. 

Distinctly we didn’t enjoy afternoon calls! 
We wished ourselves anywhere else but where 
we were; that is, we fellows and Judy did — the 
Delegates were quite unbowed down with the 
weight of awfulness and seemed to be having 
the time of their lives, giggling and chatter- 
ing with unfeeling strangers. Then cake and 
lemonade hove in sight and immediately the 
four of us felt better. Not that we were fam- 


AN AFTERNOON CALL 


213 


ished ; we weren’t ; but we were a bit dry, though 
the dryness was not from thirst alone. The 
real reason of our chirking up was that we had 
discovered the painful truth that empty hands 
are dreadfully big and hard to manage at an 
afternoon call. Besides, if you’re busy eating 
and drinking, you can’t be expected to talk 
and smirk at the same time, if you’ve been well 
brought up. So we took what was offered to 
us in a grateful spirit — and down swooped ill- 
luck without any warning. The first thing 
that idiot of a Gilbert did was to spill the liquid 
fluid — kerswish ! — over himself, which mat- 
tered little, and over the chair-cushion — which 
mattered more. Judy leaned forward, as soon 
as she saw what had happened, to sop up the 
mess with her handkerchief, dropping her cake 
on the floor as she did so, and instantly Shadow 
and Liberty, who’d been huddled against us 
looking like saints, scrambled snarlingly head 
over heels to see which would get it first. It 
sounded like the most blood-curdling dog- 
fight imaginable, which it wasn’t — but only a 
little way they have at times which is startling, 
when you don’t know their really heavenly dis- 
positions. The lady with the children gave a 


214? WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


sky-reaching shriek and stretched out motherly 
arms, into which one of the kids took a header, 
while the other, with a tremendous yowl, scut- 
tled behind her chair. Some of the other ladies 
— Miss Sally’s mother among them — uttered 
loud cries and, to add to the hullabaloo, there 
was a lot of laughter, especially from the rib- 
poking old gentleman. 

Quick as a wink Jack cuffed the scrappers 
apart, and peace was just folding her snowy 
wings about us all again when Judy, sitting 
back with a very red face, knocked over her 
glass and shivered it to smithereens. The aw- 
fullest moment followed. No one spoke; no 
one stirred; no one seemed to breathe even. 
The hush everywhere was terrible. Then the 
kid behind the protective lady’s chair giggled 
outright, though I speedily reduced him to a 
pulp with an angry glare, and Mr. Dudley 
said, in a voice which he didn’t try to make low: 

‘‘Butter-fingered, as I live!” 

The next second Miss Sally’s glass lay shat- 
tered to bits on the floor at her feet. Upon 
my word, I saw her topple it over myself on 
purpose — I saw it with my very own two eyes, 
though I don’t think anyone else did. It 


AN AFTERNOON CALL 


215 


went down with a louder crash than Judy’s 
had made, and she cried quite clearly so she 
could be heard everywhere: 

“Butter-fingered, too, you see! Well, acci- 
dents are always pardonable, for they aren’t 
intentional. Judy dear, you and I are in the 
same boat so you must love me a little — won’t 
you?” 

She came over to us as she spoke and put 
her arms around poor Judy, and kissed her 
before everybody. You can bet she was a 
number one! And pretty — H-m-m-m! She’d 
seemed a regular peach the other night in her 
party toggery, but she couldn’t hold a candle 
then to the way she looked this afternoon in 
her white gown, with her head held high, the 
red coming and going in her cheeks where the 
dimples showed in just the very right place, 
and her eyes full of softness, although there 
was a fighting glint in them besides. Judy 
snuggled close to her and seemed easy in her 
mind at once, with never a thought to give to 
such trifles as broken glasses. 

And now I want to tell you what happened, 
though you may not believe it — but it’s as 
true as true — I give you my sacred word of 


216 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


honor. That cad of a Mr. Dudley walked 
right across the veranda, in the eyes of the star- 
ing multitude, right spang across and up to 
where Miss Sally and Judy were standing to- 
gether. When he reached them — ^he made a 
low bow to my sister, just as if she were a 
grown-up young lady, and he said in a voice 
which wasn’t loud, but which carried so no one 
lost the least syllable: 

“Miss Judy, I beg your pardon, I spoke 
without thinking.” 

Judy gave a funny little cry and stood up 
quite straight, stretching out her hand to him. 
It was shaking a bit. 

“O-ohl oh! please,” she stammered, “I 
really was clumsy, only — somehow — things had 
been so upsetting I couldn’t help it. But 
you’re awfully nice to ask my pardon, and I 
forgive you from the deepest depths of my 
heart, and — and I like you vevy much.” 

Miss Sally laughed. 

“ We’re three good friends now,” she 
murmured softly. “All’s well that ends 
well.” 

I liked that man Dudley. I liked the way he 
talked to Judy after that, in a sensible, hu- 


AN AFTERNOON CALL 


S17 


mane fashion as if she were a being with 
thoughts; and I liked him most of all for own- 
ing up before the grinning populace that he 
was sorry he’d hurt a little girl’s feelings. I 
let him see how I felt on the subject, for I put 
a lot of ginger in my handshake when we went 
away, which happened a few minutes later. 
Granny had given William orders to call for 
us in a half hour’s time, so the moment he 
drove up to the door I remembered and got to 
my feet, though she’d also said that we might 
stay a little longer if Miss Sally and her 
mother urged us. 

They did; they were quite urging. Miss 
Sail}?' especially. But, though things were a 
bit better than at first, I said politely that 
we must be off ; so we got the farewells over 
and chmbed into the omnibus. That was about 
the pleasantest, freest-breathed moment I’d 
known for a long while, and another deeper- 
breathed one came when the wheels turned and 
we called good-by, and waved our hands, as the 
people on the veranda were doing. The shout- 
ing feeling was strong within us, but Judy 
hushed us up instanter, because she said the 
people would think we were glad to go — ^which. 


218 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


of course, was true, and we knew they knew 
it — ^^only in society you have to keep such 
things hidden away. I don’t see where she’d 
learned so much, for she is a most unsocietyish 
person herself; however, we stopped at once 
and began jabbering about our own affairs. 

In the midst of the hubbub I fell silent. 
We’d passed through the gates of Boxwood 
and were out on the highroad, which was cool 
and sweet, now that the sun was almost down, 
and the horses were pounding away at their 
jolly, home-going tune, and the wheels — As 
true as you live, I could only make out a cer- 
tain set of words, the same ones over and over: 
“You promised — you promised on your honor 
— ^you said you would.” Then they began 
again: “You promised . . .” I stared at 
the grass and the trees, though all I could see 
was Uncle Tom’s face, very quiet and resolve- 
ful, as it had looked the afternoon he’d asked 
me if I would speak a good word for him. 
And I hadn’t said a single thing — I’d been 
false to my trust. What was more, I’d bidden 
a long farewell to Opportunity, as the copy- 
book says; it was out of my reach. I might 
never — never — ^have the chance of being with 


AN AFTERNOON CALL 


S19 


Miss Sally again, certainly not at an afternoon 
call if I could well help myself — and any other 
meeting with her seemed too impossible to 
think of. I sat staring gloomily out of my 
mndow, while the wheels kept up such a racket 
I wondered that the others didn’t hear them. 

Then, in an instant, I made up my mind. 
Though I’d been false to my trust, that was 
no reason why I should stay so. I shouted 
wildly to Wilham to stop, and he pulled up the 
horses with a suddenness that upset Shadow 
and Liberty, who were perambulating around 
from lap to lap as usual, and their barks, min- 
gling with human surprise, made no end of a 
row. Under cover of this noise I jumped to 
the ground. 

“ I’ve forgotten something,” I declared 
boldly, “ I’ve got to go back.” 

For a long minute there wasn’t a breath any- 
where, then the bedlam broke loose: “Your 
hat ? ” “Your handkerchief? ” “ What is it? ” 
“ Let it stay.” “ Don’t put your head into the 
lion’s mouth again” (this from Gilbert). 
“Don’t be a fool” (this from Jack). And 
“Oh! Phil, must you” (from Judy), “must 
you really? Then we’ll all go back, too,” 


220 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


But I wouldn’t have that, and said so. 
Firmly. It was my own affair. I ordered 
William to drive on and he, being a man of 
sense, agreed with me that it was his duty; 
Granny would be worried if he didn’t get back 
within a certain time. So we parted — the won- 
dering Preventers going in one direction, and 
I facing another. I stood waiting a few mo- 
ments, listening to the wheels rolling out the 
same old tune, then as the sounds grew fainter 
I started about my own business. At first I 
ran. When you’re alone and your courage is 
sort of weak at the knees, that’s the best thing 
to do, otherwise — ^if you lag, or stand still — 
you’ll find it hard to get a move. Running 
puts you in a glow — outside and in. I was a 
good distance, too, from Boxwood, so there 
could be no dilly-dallying. After a bit I set- 
tled into a steady dog-trot, trying not to think 
of anything but my promise, and before I 
knew it the gates were just before me. Then 
suddenly I felt so very lonely — and queer. The 
only wish I had was to get to Uplands as fast 
as ever I could. I half turned in its direction, 
but my legs weren’t traitors — they wouldn’t 
go. It was right-about-face in a jiffy, I can 


AN AFTERNOON CALL 

tell you! I set my teeth hard, drove my fists 
well into my pockets, and started up the drive, 
my heart going like a sledge-hammer against 
my jacket — pound, pound, pound. 

The road seemed to be made of India rub- 
ber, it was so stretchable — my steps hardly 
counted at all, yet I kept pegging on. Pres- 
ently above the sounds I carried with me I 
heard the hum of voices and laughter. The 
house was just at hand. But I didn’t care. If 
the whole world had been staring, and poking 
fun at me, I wouldn’t have gone back. I could 
see things more clearly, too, which was good. 
The lawn was dotted with people and I soon 
caught sight of two famihar figures walking 
together. I stumbled across the grass, calling 
as I went, 

“ Why, it’s Phil,” Miss Sally cried, hurrying 
toward me. “What is it — has there been an 
accident?” 

“I forgot something,” I stammered, “some- 
thing I wanted to tell you. Its very particu- 
larly private.” 

Mr. Dudley met my eye and nodded a bit 
stiffly, moving at once out of ear-shot — he’s a 
gentleman through and through. Then Miss 


222 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


Sally put her hand on my shoulder; shej at 
least, didn’t look vexed. 

“Well?” she asked with a little smile, for 
I found it pretty hard to begin. 

“ It’s just this,” I blurted out, keeping my 
eyes on hers, “I wanted to tell you what a 
real good fellow my Uncle Tom is; there are 
two sides to him, one all fun and bubble, the 
other steady, and sure, and as true as steel. 
And square! — he’s one of the squarest men I 
know. You ought to see him with the dogs; 
they take a person’s measure in a flash, and 
they’d tell you he’s all right if you understood 
their language. He’s no end kind, too. Only 
last week we found a little bird that had broken 
its wing and he set it as gentle as gentle; and 
ever since he’s looked after the bird — its own 
mother couldn’t have been considerater.” 

“ Yes,” said Miss Sally very softly, as 
I paused for breath, but she wasn’t laughing, 
“yes?” 

“You see I told him I’d say a good word 
for him,” I went on, and instantly I felt her 
fingers stiffen on my shoulder as if she were 
surprised. “ So that’s why I came back, be- 
cause I hadn’t done it; I felt you ought to 


AN AFTERNOON CALL 


223 


know wnat he really is on his stay-at-home- 
just-with-his-own-family side.’’ 

Miss Sally stood staring at me, her face full 
of assorted looks, not so much smiling ones — 
as others. 

“You’re very loyal, Phil,” she said after a 
moment. 

“But I almost forgot,” I interrupted, “and 
when we came away this afternoon I let him 
understand that I’d remember the promise I 
made him the other day. Oh! do you want to 
know about that? Well, it was after the but- 
tercups came; Uncle Tom was the one to find 
the bells — that was the first inkling he had 
about that prank; and later, when he and I 
were by ourselves, he said, ‘ Sally’s a trump, 
isn’t she? ’ Yes, I started — just the way you’re 
doing now, and I told him he ought to say Miss 
Sally — it was politer. Then he laughed, and 
said all right, but it shouldn’t be Miss Sally 
long if he could help it, and I pointed out to 
him that you would have to decide that. I wish 
you could have seen his face, it was so earnest, 
and so — so speaking — he agreed, too, oh ! quite 
solemn-like that it would all depend on you, but 
he hoped I’d help matters along by saying a 


224 < WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


good word for him. And he meant it — really, 
out of the deepness of his heart. So I gave him 
my promise on the spot. That’s all. Now, I 
must go.” 

Miss Sally put her finger under my chin and 
tipped it up, looking straight into my eyes; 
she was kinder red, but it didn’t seem the mad 
sort. 

“Where are the others?” she asked. 

“I made them go on for fear of worrying 
Granny,” I answered. “ This was Uncle Tom’s 
affair and mine — they don’t know about it. 
I left them at the Silvertons’ ” 

“ What,” she interrupted, “ you came all that 
distance — you dear boy ” she stopped sud- 

denly, and her hand closed over mine with a 
very understanding grip. 

“Oh I it wasn’t anything of a walk,” I said. 
“ I didn’t mind it a bit — I should have minded 
much more the not telling. Good-by.” 

“Good-by,” she repeated softly, then she 
stooped and whispered something in my ear. 

I started off after that, and as I reached 
the drive I looked around; Mr. Dudley had 
joined her, but before they moved away she 


AN AFTERNOON CALL 225 

waved her hand to me. I hurried my steps 
then, pelting along through the gates and out 
into the highroad, on and on. It was kinder 
lonesome. The air had grown a bit coolish, for 
the sun had gone, though the sky was still 
bright with goldeny pink clouds far up the 
west, but it would be quite dark — I knew — be- 
fore I could reach Uplands. There was no 
helping that, however, and even if I had to go 
supperless to bed I shouldn’t regret tlie turn- 
ing back. I’d have been pretty mean if I 
hadn’t done it. I fell to whistling and singing 
at the top of my lungs to forget my solitariness 
and the noise I made drowned the sounds of 
approaching wheels; the first I knew a dog- 
cart almost ran me down. 

“Hullo, Phill” Uncle Tom shouted, draw- 
ing up, “they said you had to go back, so I 
came on after you.” 

If he was disappointed that he didn’t have 
to go all the way he didn’t say so, but after I’d 
scrambled up he turned around, setting the 
horse off at a spanking pace; also, if he was 
curious as to my errand he was too polite to 
hint a question. I told him the whole of it 


WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

immediately, and he heard me through from 
start to finish without a word; then he slowed 
up, whistling softly. 

“Hmm! that finishes me,” I heard him say 
under his breath; the next moment his hand 
shot out cordially, and he cried, “ You’re a 
brick, Phil.” 

“ So’s the other fellow,” I returned. 

“ What other fellow? ” he asked with a grin. 
“Your humble?” 

“ No, old man Dudley,” I answered. Then 
I gave him an ungarnished account of what had 
happened that afternoon. As before, he lis- 
tened without interrupting, but as soon as I’d 
finished he said — and this is part of his square- 
ness and fairness: 

“ You’re right, Phil, he is a brick.” He was 
quiet for a little while; we were not moving, 
but had stopped in the centre of the darkening 
road. “Do you think she thinks so, too?” he 
asked. “ Sally, I mean.” 

I didn’t correct his lack of manners. 

“Yes,” I replied slowly, “she truly looked 
it.” 

He leaned forward and gave the horse a 
sharp cut with his whip, then — as the cart 


AN AFTERNOON CALL m 

lurched from side to side — ^he settled himself 
firmly in his seat. 

“It’s getting late, my young friend,” he 
said, with his eyes straight ahead of him, “ we 
must be jogging on.” 

“ Miss Sally — told me,” I gasped, speaking 
in jerks and rather loudly, for the horse and 
wheels were making no end of a racket, “ she 
told — me to tell — you — to — take — warning — 
by — Miles — somebody — or — other ” 

The cart came to a sudden standstill and I 
had to clutch the wood at the side to keep from 
pitching forward on my head. 

“ The ” he cried. 

No, I am really not going to repeat what he 
said — it is not allowable on youthful lips. Gil- 
bert had his mouth washed out once with soap 
for using the same improper name. Uncle 
Tom recovered himself quickly. 

“ She did, did she?” he cried with open joy, 
dipping up the horse again, but quite gently 
this time. “I say, Phil, you’re no end of a 
trump, you’ll dine with me to-night, old fellow 
—yes. I’ll insist upon Granny’s letting you.” 

I squared my shoulders and sat well back in 
my place, though I didn’t say anything just 


2S8 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

then ; we rode on in silence, each one busy with 
his thoughts, as the poem says. 

“ Who was Miles?” I asked, with high-beat- 
ing heart as we entered Uplands’ gates. 

“ Miles Standish,” Uncle Tom laughed, ‘‘ of 
Plymouth days — you’ve not forgotten him. 
I’ll warrant, A plain, blunt soldier who ought 
to have remembered the adage that when you 
want a thing done, you yourself are the best 
person to do it.” 

“Oh, I see,” I cried thoughtfully, “then 
that’s what Miss Sally meant ” 

“Yes,” he answered, “that’s what she 
meant,” and a moment later he added softly 
under his breath: “ God bless her ! ” 


CHAPTER XIII 

WITH THE IMPROVERS 

Uncle Tom had bound me by no oath of 
secrecy, though I think that was because he 
knew his man and knew, too, that he was to 
be trusted through thick and thin. The Pre- 
venters were mighty keen to find out why I’d 
gone back to Boxwood, but I put them off by 
saying I’d forgotten to tell Miss Sally some- 
thing — which was true. They had to be satis- 
fied with that. Judy looked as if she was just 
dying to know what it was, but when I let her 
see by my manner that the secret wasn’t my 
own, she understood why my lips were forever 
sealed. We’re pretty open with each other — 
she and I — and always mean to be, still this 
wasn’t my aff air. I had to keep quiet. 

The next morning when we were all under 
the Council Tree Uncle Tom rode by looking 
so strong and handsome, as he waved to us, 
that it seemed as if he’d ridden right out of the 
days of Chivalry. After he’d passed some of 

229 


230 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


the Preventers began to wonder where he was 
going, guessing this place and that in a light 
and senseless way. I didn’t need to guess. 
Boxwood was written all over him from top to 
toe, only if you think I let on — you are wrong. 
And yet, when I glanced up the next moment, 
Judy stared me squarely in the face and 
mouthed two words; Miss Sally. Then she 
giggled. 

I kept by myself all morning, leaving the 
others to do what they pleased, for when a 
secret is just new you don’t take much interest 
in every-day matters. Judy, Jack, and Gilbert 
went off somewheres with the dogs, and the 
Delegates — ^^of all things in the world — played 
at making calls. They togged themselves out 
in some old grown-up clothes and trotted about 
the house visiting this person and that. I was 
sitting on the side veranda reading when they 
trailed by, with all their airs and graces, on 
their way to Duke’s pantry, and from the rum- 
blings that soon arose upon the calm summer 
breeze I knew he was spouting away as usual. 
Presently, just as I’d got deep in my book, 
there was a clatter of hoofs on the drive and 
a horseman dashed past, keeping right on to 


WITH THE IMPROVERS S31 

the stables without a halt of any kind. I peered 
after the retreating figure — the way they al- 
days do in books, and could scarcely believe 
my eyes. It was Uncle Tom — back long be- 
fore he ought to have been. As soon as I could 
get over my surprise I set out to meet him, 
though I needn’t have bothered about hurry- 
ing. Half-way to the house he’d stopped to 
look at the view — the same old view that’s al- 
ways been there — and was so busy studying it 
that I had to cough tA\dce before he took the 
slightest notice of me. He glanced around then 
with a start and tried to grin, though I saw at 
once that his was not a grinning mood. 

“Hullo, kid,” he cried, looking off again, 
“fine prospect that — fine!” 

Well, there wasn’t anything for a fellow to 
say to such a silly remark so I kept still, and 
pretty soon he turned and met my eye. 

“ She’s gone,” he said gloomily. 

I fell back in sheer bewilderment, staring for 
all I was worth ; after a bit I dumbly mouthed 
two words, as Judy had done earlier. 

“Yes, Miss Sally,” he cried impatiently, 
“she went away this morning on the eight 
o’clock train.” 


^32 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

“Then she didn’t mean the first thing,” I 
stammered, “ she was just fooling us — I didn’t 
think it of her.” 

Uncle Tom switched savagely at a bush with 
his crop, clipping off some leaves neatly. 

“ I don’t,” he declared at last, “ I wont think 
it of her. Tell me again what she said.” 

I obeyed. And in the next ten days I re- 
peated the words very often; he seemed never 
to tire of hearing them. Of course he’d been 
pretty well bowled over by Miss Sally’s run- 
ning away, but he didn’t go around as if he’d 
lost his last friend — not he! He rode, and 
drove, and played tennis, and larked with us 
all, and was just as usual, except that he wrote 
a good many letters and he did show an un- 
common interest in the mail-bag whenever it 
arrived. Finally, one afternoon, he took me 
aside and said that his stay had come to an 
end. I dare say I looked a little dashed, we’d 
grown such friends ; and though I’d known all 
along that school was glooming in the near 
future for me, I hadn’t thought he’d be the 
first to leave. 

“Well,” I said forlornly, “summer is over 
and there’s nothing but dreariness coming ” 


WITH THE IMPROVERS 


^33 


He shook me by the shoulder forcefully, yet 
not ungently. 

“You villain,” he cried, “Miles Standish is 
going on his own errand.” 

And then I understood. And after we’d 
talked for a while, though he didn’t say much, 
he let me have a peep at the postscript of a cer- 
tain letter. It ran like this: “Give my dear 
love to Philip.” 

He went away in the morning, so early that 
Cousin Laura had to bid him good-by the 
night before — fur she couldn’t get up at such 
heathenish hours, she said. But Granny came 
out on the stair landing in her wrapper and 
kissed him, and told him to take care of him- 
self, and not to jump on, or off, a moving train, 
and to be sure to write the very first thing — 
just as if he were ten, instead of almost three 
times that age. I suppose mothers are always 
like that; their boys never really grow up to 
them. Of course we wouldn’t let a valued 
friend depart without seeing him off, so we 
were downstairs before he was, and when he 
joined us we found that Granny had ordered 
breakfast for the entire crew and Duke was on 
hand, because he never would let anyone else 


234 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


serve Uncle Tom. It was a regular jubilee 
from start to finish, with Duke the life of the 
whole party. All too soon the trap drove up 
to the door, the good-bys were spoken. Granny 
screamed the last parting conjunctions, and 
then we were left staring mournfully at one an- 
other while the carriage vanished in the dis- 
tance. 

We mooned around almost the entire day. 
It was pretty dreary outside, for it began to 
storm before noon, and it was much drearier 
within-doors. Things fell so fiat, somehow. It 
didn’t seem possible that Uncle Tom’s going 
could have made all that difference, and w^e 
were ready to blame the weather. Yet rain 
had never made us so droopy, nor so hard to 
please before. After dinner our lowness got 
worse, and we were glad enough when Granny 
sent for us to cheer up Cousin Laura and her- 
self. J udy said she rather thought Granny had 
a lump-in-her-throat feeling, such as we knew 
about, and we ought to do what we could to 
make matters jolly. So we just put our shoul- 
ders to the wheel and everyone felt better im- 
mediately. Granny brightened right up, and 


WITH THE IMPROVERS 


235 


when Gilbert gave his hen imitation she 
laughed fit to kill, while Cousin Laura insisted 
on his doing it again, which so tickled the noble 
doer that after the performance he stood on 
his head and not one reproving word was ut- 
tered. We parted quite light-heartedly for the 
night, very proud in our own minds that we’d 
been true Preventers of Dulness. 

The rain had settled down with a vengeance 
as we discovered next morning, and Granny’s 
orders were that the girls should not go out ; we 
boys might do as we chose, though she pre- 
ferred to have us remain in-doors. The first 
part of her remarks was permission enough 
and I’d have been off instanter, if it hadn’t 
been for Judy’s eyes which said “ Stay,” 
though her lips wore a real brave, go-if-you- 
want-to smile. Besides, the big calendar in the 
schoolroom told a certain truth, rather plainly, 
and that helped me to understand what she 
was bothering about. If we fellows went off 
swishing through the rain, with the dash of it 
in our faces, and the nice smell of the wet all 
around, the Delegates wouldn’t give us a 
thought, they’d be so busy with their dolls. But 


^6 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

Judy would be out of it, somehow, thinking 
of the call of the damp air and — other things. 
All in a moment I made up my mind. 

“ Oh, well,” I said, “ I’m for staying in, it’s 
too sozzling outside.” 

“Anyone would think you were made of 
‘sugar and spice, and all that’s nice/” began 
Gilbert. 

“Anyone would know you weren’t,” I re- 
torted. “But go if you like — and Jack, too, 
he’s his own master. What, old man, you 
mean to stay? That’s bully. Now then, Judy, 
you’ve got to tell us what to do.” 

Judy laughed such a ringing, happy laugh 
that it cleared Gilbert right out of the sulks 
and set him staring at her, and her face did look 
so beamy. 

“Of course I’ll stay, too,” he mumbled, 
“anything to oblige, I’m sure. Fire ahead, 
Jude.” 

“Shall it be Pranks?” she asked anxiously. 
“Not that I can think of anything new, but 
we might jumble up the list, draw helter-skel- 
ter and make a combination. Or — ^or ” 

she faltered, “suppose we play something 
quieter, something ” she had to stop again. 


WITH THE IMPROVERS 237 

“ Suppose we just have a club like Granny’s 
improving one,” she finished all in a breath. 

Jack chortled with glee, I hovered undecided 
between a sniff and a snicker, and Gilbert 
groaned outright. The Delegates were dumb. 

“ It’ll be easy when it’s once started, and I 
know you’ll like it,” Judy went on ; “ we’ll have 
the meeting this afternoon, for there’s a lot 
to get ready, and we’ll have refreshments too. 
Hooked, or unhooked, just as you say, though 
if you’ll leave it to me I can get more of the 
unhooked kind.” 

“Don’t be too sure,” warned Gilbert. 

“I’ll ask Granny,” Judy explained, “and 
when I tell her about the meeting I know she’ll 
let me have what I want.” 

“ Hooked grub is more fun,” I said thought- 
fully, “still there are so many of us it’s hard 
sometimes to make it go round. If we turn 
improvers you may take my blessing and try 
your luck with Granny.” 

“ I’ve thought of something else,” Judy con- 
tinued, growing bolder. “ Suppose we dress 
up with our theatrical wardrobe and other 
things ? The meeting will be in the schoolroom, 
and we’ll each read what we’ve written special 


238 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


for the occasion — then, when that part is over, 
it will be time for refreshments. Oh, do please 
say yes.” 

She clasped hex hands and waited, though we 
didn’t keep her long in suspense. Of course 
we said yes — we said it again and again, Gil- 
bert shouting it out the loudest of us all, which 
was particularly nice of him because he hates 
doing things with pencil and paper, only — as 
you can see — there was more than just that to 
Judy’s plan. There were to be surprises on 
every side. And such were always welcome to 
our all-embracing natures. 

At three o’clock we entered the schoolroom 
and Judy had been there before us. But, for 
that matter, she’d been everywhere during those 
busy hours — upstairs, downstairs, trotting off 
to interview Granny, penetrating absolutely 
unterrified into Hannah’s den, passing us again 
and again, sometimes with things hidden in 
her arms, and always with her face so screwed 
up with importance that we could hardly wait 
for afternoon to come. The moment the door 
was opened we saw that the secretings had not 
been for herself, as we’d supposed; she’d tog- 
ged the old place out in honor of the meeting. 


WITH THE IMPROVERS 239 

Strips of bunting hid the maps, and flags of 
the different nations dressed up the picture 
frames and fluttered gayly from the mantel- 
shelf, In the centre of the room flve chairs 
were drawn up in an associable dummy-circle 
facing a round table covered with a white cloth, 
on which was fastened the subscription; 

“Welcome to the Improvers.” 

The letters were made of cardboard, painted 
red, and looked bully, I can tell you. On the 
table were a glass of water, a vase of flowers, 
and a large hammer, while behind it was a big 
Sleepy-Hollow chair with the American flag 
festooned over its back and falling on either 
side in Roman togarry folds. Nor did the flx- 
ings end here. On one of the window sills 
was Hannah’s very own canary in its gilt cage 
with a ribbon bow at each corner. We stared 
at it open-mouthed, and the fellow stared back 
at us with his little beady eyes; suddenly, he 
tilted up his head and burst into song, as if he’d 
been able to read the subscription and was do- 
ing it with all his might. That fetched us. We 
came out of our silence and gave a cheer for 


240 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


Judy, who was hovering in the background 
kinder red, but very pleased looking. 

“ I’m glad you like it,” she said, when there 
was room for her voice. “And now, Mr. Presi- 
dent, please sit down and open the meeting.” 

Amid roars of delight from my companions 
— ^two — and four-legged — I stalked to the 
table and took my place, waving to the others 
to be seated. This was rather more difficult 
than it sounds, for the dogs thought they were 
invited to sit in the front row and there was a 
grand rush for the chairs. As soon as the 
rightful occupiers were victorious, I hammered 
loudly for the club to come to order. 

“Friends and fellow country-men,” I be- 
gan, “the following distinguished persons^ are 
with us to-day: King Henery of Navarre, 
Mary, Queen of Scots, Sir Walter Raleigh, the 
Bride of Lammermoor, and an aged grand- 
mother — name unknown— — ” 

“I told you I was Lady Ronalds of Ron- 
aldston,” Margery put in sharply. 

“Oh! I crave your pardon. Lady Ronalds,” 
I cried with my politest air, “I’m sure your 
ladyship will forgive my infected memory — 
white hairs are always merciful to mistakes.” 


WITH THE IMPROVERS U1 

Margery’s frowns scuttled away as if by 
magic, and she cast a grandmotherly smile 
upon honey Prince Charlie who sat in the pres- 
idential chair. Now, I flatter myself, I was 
pretty fine to look at. I had on a pair of Uncle 
Tom’s plaid golf stockings, a kilt skirt of 
Judy’s (worn over my trousers which didn’t 
show) , and a blousy white shirt with a red sash 
criss-crossed from the shoulder to the waist 
where it was tied in a big bow. I also wore a 
Glengarry cap, which Scotch folks call a bon- 
net, and a pair of gauntlet gloves, while dan- 
gling fiercely at my side was a large brass pa- 
per-cutter, dagger-shaped. I rapped thunder- 
ously again. 

“It’s usually the thing for ladies to lead,” 
I remarked, “but from the signals of distress 
hoisted in my majestic sister’s queenly orbs she 
would have it otherwise. Ah, Mary, Mary, 
quite contrary — there’s nothing to be afraid of 
here.” 

Mary, alias Judy, shook her head so hard 
that her crown almost toppled off, and we had 
to wait till she made everything steady again. 
She was dressed in a long red gown which 
lay in billows on the floor, anchored there by 


24^ WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


Liberty; an ermine cape — smelling dreadfully 
of mothaline (it had been dragged from the 
store-room, and I wondered at her!) — was 
around her shoulders, and also a mass of glit- 
tering chains (our own property) and strings 
of colored beads. She looked every inch a 
queen, all but her eyes — and they had a most 
begging expression. 

“Well, well, Mary,” I hastened to say gra- 
ciously, “you do not sue in vain. Sir Walter 
Raleigh, that ever ready knight to oblige a lady 
— from mud-puddles up — will not be backward 
about coming forward now.” 

I was right. Sir Walter, otherwise Jack, 
was on his feet before I’d finished speaking, a 
bit crimson about the gills, but with a daring 
look all over his gallant figure. He wore his 
own black velvet suit with a lot of gorgeous 
chains upon his noble breast, a monstrous white 
ruff was around his throat, red ribbons were 
tied at his knees, ending in big rosettes, and on 
his feet were Turkish slippers with glistering 
turned-up toes. Nor was this all. Uncle Tom’s 
choicest tobacco pouch hung at his side with one 
of the broad-swords hooked from the collection 
downstairs (and wouldn’t he catch it if it were 


WITH THE IMPROVERS 


243 


caught on him!), while a blue cloak, belonging 
to Sheila, fell half-way down his back. He 
made a low bow to the skittish Queen (though 
he ought to have done it to me) , drew a paper 
from his doublet and sailed right in: 

** The rain is falling, 

And children are bawling. 

Oh ! me, how shocking wrong that is ! 

For if we didn’t have frequentious showers. 

There wouldn’t be any fruits and flowers; 

They need the rain to wash their faces. 

So they can smile up from the same old places. 

I guess we’d all feel pretty mad 

If there wasn’t an apple, or peach, to be had. 

So welcome the rain with shouts and be glad.” 

When Jack got through there was some pretty 
tall cheering, I can tell you, only if you think 
it was for the storm outside — you’re way off. 
He knew fast enough what we meant, and 
grinned his hardest. He was still pretty red 
in the face and when he could make himself 
heard he asked the Bride of Lammermoor for 
her fan. At which, old Lady Ronalds shook 
her snowy head in an I-told-you-so way, and 
Queen Mary commanded him to take off his 
cloak, but he refused to obey the royal will. 


244 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

though it would certainly have made him more 
comfortable. I banged the table loudly to put 
an end to the discussion. This time Mary 
wasn’t to get off. 

She got up slowly, tumbling Liberty off 
her skirts, and settled her crown as she looked 
around at us in the queerest fashion. Her 
words soon showed what the trouble was. 

“ Dear Mr. President, and dear visitors and 
members,” she stammered, “I’m truly sorry 
that I couldn’t write anything for this mag- 
nificent meeting, but somehow I didn’t have 
time. I crave your gracious pardons.” 

Now, this was very fine, only it didn’t go 
down with us. Of course she’d been busy — plan- 
ning, and working to get things ready, and 
helping with our costumes — for she’d had her 
finger in every pie — but we supposed she’d 
’tended to such a little thing as writing in the 
beginning, as we’d done. Our expressive 
glances expressed our feelings plainly. 

“Oh, I’m so dreadfully sorry,” she cried, 
“but please don’t be mad. Just after dinner I 

thought of something — something ” she 

had to stop for a moment, then — with her eyes 
on the Occupier of the Chair — she went on: 


WITH THE IMPROVERS 


245 


“ I thought of a little piece that I’d made up 
for dear father’s birthday. You haven’t heard 
it, so I brought it along. If you want me to, 
I’ll read it now, though it wasn’t written for 
the club.” 

I wish you could have heard the clatter that 
broke out among the members. I had to pound 
it back with might and main as I said, with the 
authority of a president: “We are content. 
Proceed, royal sister.” 

She unfolded the wad of paper that she was 
holding squnched up like a ball, and began to 
read in a voice that she tried hard to keep from 
being shaky (and couldn’t!) : 

To Father: 

** When the bright dawn is breaking 
O’er land and sea, 

And all the world is waking, 

My thoughts, with wings, are taking 
Their way to thee. 

** And when the sun is lying 
Low in the west. 

And birds are homewards flying. 

My heart for one is sighing — 

One I love best.” 

Queen Mary sat down and nobody clapped. 


me WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

or said a word. We were still — very still — 
thinking! Jack and Sheila of their father, and 
we four of ours, and of darling mother, too. 
Suddenly they didn’t seem so far away after 
all, but quite — quite near; for love is like a 
bridge that goes across any distance and then 
hearts can do the rest. The canary, as if won- 
dering at the hush, put its head on one side and 
broke into the happiest little song, and in the 
midst of it old Lady Ronalds hobbled across 
the room and kissed Judy. Thereupon, Navarre 
patted the ermine cape consequentially. Sir 
Walter threw his cloak at her feet, and I let the 
flowers go helter-skelter into the royal lap, only 
saving the water from following after by the 
most wonderful presence of mind, while the 
Bride, who’d got back her fan, hung around 
raising a breeze — which wasn’t unwelcome. It 
was a great innovation. The queen herself 
was quite red and smiling. 

“ So you like it,” she said softly. “Oh! I’m 
very — very glad.” 

Then the hullabaloo broke out with a ven- 
geance and it was long before I could restore 
quiet. When it was peaceful once more I nod- 
ded to Navarre to do his duty like a man. He 


WITH THE IMPROVERS 247 

was the most splendiferous of us all. Stage 
jewels, top-boots, pistol, a velvet mantle (that 
smelled like Judy’s ermine, and I shook in my 
shoes at the owdaciousness of the royal two, 
which Hannah would settle by and by!), and 
last — though far from least — a wonderful hat 
with a long white plume. He seemed in a hurry 
to begin, and stopped the shouts that greeted 
his appearance with a kingly frown. He held 
a large sheet of paper in his hand with a whack- 
ing big seal of red wax on its back — the royal 
seal — which was a clever thought on the boy’s 
part. 

“ The poem I’m about to read to this august 
— no, I mean September — meeting,” he said, 
clearing his throat, “ is called ‘ To the Queen of 
Night.’” He repeated the title with gump- 
tion, and stopped long enough for it to sink 
deep into our listening souls, then he went on 
in a pompous voice: 

“ O Moon ! 

O Moon!! 

O Moon-ation ! ! ! ’* 

Down he plumped in a great hurry, and we 
waited anxiously not knowing what to do. 


248 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

Finally Lammermoor’s bride nudged the 
kingly ribs with her elbow. 

“ Go on,” she whispered. 

“Go on?” he cried thunderously. “There’s 

nothing to go on. That’s the end ” 

“The end!” shouted Sir Walter. “Well, 
of all the poetry! I call that the rottenest — — ” 
INavarre was on his feet in a jiffy, his plume 
shaking like a giddy iceberg. 

“ Huh ! you do, do you ? What do you know 
about poetry?” he stormed. “You couldn’t 
make up a word like ‘ Moonation ’ if you tried 
forever. It ain’t in you. My piece is lots bet- 
ter than your measly Sunday-school ” 

“Ah! hush,” broke in the Scottish Queen, 
who loved peace, “ please hush, boys, the meet- 
ing is so scrumptious — don’t spoil it now. 
Really, Jack, ‘Moonation’ is a splendid port- 
manteau word. It is so meaningful! For, be- 
sides the moon, it makes you think of the 
nation there, and the country, too, which 
couldn’t very well be put into a single piece of 
poetry, you know, and so Gilbert just jumbled 

them all together ” 

“Oh! I catch on,” said Sir Walter, “I see. 
Shake, my liege.” 


WITH THE IMPROVERS 249 

“We’ll hurrah for ‘ Moonation,’ ” I ordered 
from the chair, “one, two, three — go!” 

The cheers were given with a good will and 
Navarre, after wringing Raleigh’s hand, sank 
into his place with a proud and satisfied coun- 
tenance. Immediately the Bride, who was 
dressed in a long white gown with a mosquito 
netting veil over her face, and hanging far 
down behind, got to her feet. She carried a 
green leather hand-bag slung over one wi’ist, 
from which she took her paper and proceeded 
to read it through an old pair of Cousin 
Laura’s stick-glasses, minus the glass. It was 
a short contribution — almost as short as Gil- 
bert’s, but difF erent. It went like this : 

“ Mr. Josiah Binsse 
Ate a sour quiirce — 

And he’s been lying here ever since.” 

When she sat down we didn’t have to ask her 
to go on; we knew well enough she’d come to 
the end. But we weren’t backward with our 
praises, and she sidled and bridled with delight. 

Then it was Lady Ronalds’ turn. The aged 
dame stood up with the support of a walking- 
stick, and without any of the bashfulness of 


250 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


youth, such as Mary had shown, read the work 
of her pen in a high, squeaky voice: 

“ Granny’s got a little Shadow, 

Just as white (’ceptin’ for brown spots on his ears), 
as white can be, 

Of course everybody knows that shadows are always 
black — 

But he’s a different kind, you see.” 

She looked tickled to death when we clapped 
with all our might and the dogs, as if they knew 
she’d been singing of one of them, circled 
round her chair, barking, and jumping, and 
choking most dreadfully when she tried to 
shake off their kisses. 

It was now left for the President to give his 
simple diffusion and all eyes were turned on 
him. If he wished that he’d opened the meet- 
ing, instead of waiting till the close, he kept 
that thought hidden deep in his valiant breast, 
and no one suspected it as he staggered to his 
feet and read, in an expressive manner, the fol- 
lowing poem : 


WITH THE IMPROVERS 


251 


LINES TO MY CHILDHOOD’S NURSE. 

“Good morning, fair Lizzie, 

And how are your hands? 

All ready to pull out my hair? 

Your comb always sticks. 

And your brush always pricks. 

Till you nearly drive me to despair. 

(Chorus !) 

Lizzie, Lizzie, always so busy. 

Always pulling so hard! 

I sigh as I see you making the bed. 

For I know soon I’ll feel your 
Claws at my head ! ” 

I had to say the chorus again, and then the 
others caught on and yelled it over and over 
until they were hoarse. And my! how they 
praised me. Such shouts, such hand-clappings I 
I tell you what, a noise like that makes a fel- 
low red and shiny on the outside, but with such 
a spreading, cosey feeling in his interior. It’s 
worth a peck of trouble. Well, perhaps, the 
poetry was good. I rather liked it myself, and 
anyway, the whole thing was a true picture of 
nature (for we four hadn’t forgotten old Liz- 
zie by a long shot!) , and that always makes the 
best kind of writing, everybody says. 


252 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


“And now,” I said when the hubbub had 
died down, “it has been whispered in my pres- 
idential ear that there are to be refreshments, 
though my presidential eye has looked in vain 
for them. But the noble queen, who’s running 
this show, has crossed her heart that the rations 
are coming. The meeting is over. Mary, trot 
out the grub.” 

Mary got up in a majestical fashion and 
sailed across the room to the bell which she rang 
loudly. We waited, scarcely breathing at all, 
with funny little shivers of what’s-going-to- 
happen-next running up and down our back- 
bones. After a long minute there was the 
sound of heavy steps in the passageway with- 
out, the door was flung open and Duke — abso- 
lutely empty-handed — stood on the threshold. 
We glanced from him to Mary of Scotland 
and her face showed us she was as surprised as 
we — surpriseder! But — we couldn’t help it — 
reproach, and something that began with A, 
fllled our eyes. 

Duke, with his most sober prayer-meeting 
expression, made us a bow. 

“Mis’ Ronaldses compliments ter de Im- 
provers,” he announced pompously, “en will 


WITH THE IMPROVERS 253 

dey hab de agility ter descen’ ter de dining 
room?” 

For a minute certain articles of our costumes 
seemed awfully in the way, but to get rid of 
them would shake the very foundations of our 
attire. We knew not what to do. Then that 
great, good man, Duke, saw our trouble. 

“ Ef ’n I was in yo’ places I’d come erlong 
widout delay,” he coaxed, “en I wudn’t be on- 
easy in my min’ ’count er any ole clo’s. A 
gran’mudder’s eye at a time like dis yer, ain’ 
gwine ter see anyt’ing dat ain’ fer de gennle 
peace en comfo’tubleness er de hull ’sembly. 
You kin take my word fer it. Don’ you hoi’ 
back no longer ; ez ole Marse Shakespeare says 
— wid abridgemints er my own, ‘Stay not 
upon de notion er yo’ cornin’, but come at 
oncet.’ ” 

We did as he advised, and as we went the 
queen whispered to me that she’d supposed 
Sophy would bring lemonade and cake when 
she gave the signal, as had been arranged, and 
she wondered, she really did wonder 

But we had reached the dining room by this 
time and the reality stared us in the face. There 
was a blaze of light everywhere. In the centre 


S54< WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


of the room, decked out in party toggery, 
stood the table holding a cold collection which 
was a number one, I can tell you, for the tele- 
phone is a regular Aladdin’s lamp these days. 
Ice cream, wobbly jelly, dear little cakes, fruit, 
candy — and oh! joy — snapping-mottoes in 
profuseness. Duke managed the whole show 
with his superfinest company manner ; if we’d 
been grown-ups he couldn’t have transported 
himself more elegantly, and what’s more, he 
remembered our elevated stations and never 
miscalled us once. Granny and Cousin Laura 
greeted us warmly on our descent. If they saw 
aught to displease them they gave no sign — 
they seemed full of admiration, and hunger, 
too, and kept Duke trotting pretty lively, fill- 
ing their plates. Also they pulled mottoes with 
us, shrieking out at the snappers — just as girls 
always do. They even decked themselves up 
in the paper caps and sashes; Cousin Laura 
had three bonnets on her head, one on top of 
the other, but she looked so smiling and jolly 
that Queen Mary squeezed her hand and she 
squeezed Queen Mary’s in return. 

When the feast was over, I moved, as Presi- 
dent, that we’d give three cheers for Granny. 


WITH THE IMPROVERS 


^55 


But she stepped right out from her place and 
said that the only person deserving cheers was 
Queen Mary, and she hoped we’d give them 
from our hearts. Just as we were starting in, 
she held up her hand and cried in a ringing 
voice : 

“Not three, but three times three — and a 
very big tiger!” 

She actually led the shouting herself, only 
— and you may not believe this, though it’s as 
true as true — she had to race for it with Cousin 
Laura. Duke waved a napkin and came in 
with his heavy base, while Sophy, who’d been 
assisting, trailed after, shrieking like a siren; 
the dogs, too, were not dumb. Thus all ended 
in joyousness and yet, though part of Judy’s 
face was smiling, her eyes were kinder glisteny 
— but that’s just like a girl! 


CHAPTER XIV 
“handkerchief day” 

Once, during the summer, Margery had 
called a certain day, which we seldom talked 
about, “ Handkerchief Day,” and she was 
promptly reduced to silence for daring to hint 
at such a thing. We fellows didn’t have any 
trouble in seeing through her silly meaning, 
and we weren’t going to stand that sort of non- 
sense if we could help it. Yet somehow, though 
we never used the oppressive term out loud, I 
guess the six of us said it over often in our 
hearts — especially as the direful time drew 
nigh, as they say in poetry. With Uncle 
Peter’s arrival its shadowy breath chilled the 
very marrow in our veins, and our first wish 
was that he hadn’t come quite so soon — I think 
even his own children must have wished the 
same, though of course they didn’t mention 
it to us. 

That was the only reason why we would have 
put off his coming, for as soon as we saw him, 

256 


‘‘HANDKERCHIEF DAY” 


£57 


Gilbert and I agreed with Jack that he was a 
father any fellow might be proud of, while 
Judy and Margery declared he was “a dar- 
ling” in Sheila’s very own tone of voice. He 
looked something like Uncle Tom, being al- 
most as tall, though a bit wider, and he’d the 
same nice, put-you-at-your-ease eyes and pleas- 
ant laugh. His was an understanding nature, 
too, quicker really than Uncle Tom’s — and not 
so teasable. He was with us from morning 
till night, preventing dulness everywhere, and 
he also talked a lot about what the others only 
vaguely hinted at, or mentioned with abating 
breath. For instance, he spoke of what we’d 
do at school without any brush-beating at all, 
or as if the subject ought to be kept hidden 
under a bushel. 

The first time he began this kind of talk I 
saw Judy ball up her fists very tight, and on 
the moment I wanted to pitch into him for not 
holding his tongue; he might have told us fel- 
lows on the quiet, instead of going on, as he 
did, to paint pictures of the friends we’d make, 
and the fun we’d have out of lesson-hours. I 
rather wondered at him, and he so understand- 
ing! Of course Jack, and Gilbert, and I 


258 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


couldn’t help taking a manly interest in what 
he said, but the girls were different — particu- 
larly one of them. Still I wasn’t quite so sure 
after a few minutes, for Judy, who was sitting 
next to him (we were all under the Council 
Tree), slipped her hand through the crook of 
his arm, and he patted it gently with his free 
hand. She wasn’t uninterested at any rate, 
which was a good thing, because he’d started in 
on some of the capital times he’d had himself 
when he was a kid, and it would have been a 
shame if he’d stopped in the middle of an ex- 
citing scene — like the serial stories do. 

‘'Then there’ll be another splendid things” 
he said after he’d finished his experiences, “ and 
I fancy you boys will be the envy of your com- 
rades. I’ll give you three guesses that you 
don’t know what I mean. Come, begin.” 

If you’ll believe it, we couldn’t tell what he 
was driving at, and yet we tried our best; the 
girls were quite as excited as we fellows, 
though they were bound to come wide of the 
mark — but not one of us even got “ warm,” so 
he had to out with it. Which he did, with 
a laugh. 

“Letters.” 


« HANDKERCHIEF DAY” 


S59 


Up to that moment we hadn’t thought of 
anything of the sort, and the idea seemed 
prime. It’s pretty jolly to get letters, to hold 
them in your hand a moment while you won- 
der a bit, and then to let the little inside voice 
out and hear it telling you things. Not so good 
ever as the real live voice, but awfully good in 
its way. Didn’t we know? Hadn’t we heard 
Father’s and Mother’s pen-voices using the 
words that their real ones had used again and 
again, so we could even hear their very tones 
in our hearts? 

Uncle Peter laughed because we kept so still, 
but I saw him give Judy’s hand a quick 
squeeze. 

“Let me see,” he went on, “Jack will have 
his regulars — Sheila, and a certain frivolous 
father, and he’ll be peppered with other shot. 
Granny, not to mention Cousin Laura, who 
likes her Hoppity young man, and Judy here 
—well, I’m not going to tell you about Judy’s 
letters, and Margery must drive her quill, or 
we’ll use arguments. And what a budget you 
other boys will have. Letters from Manila, 
from Uplands, and Sheila won’t forget you, 
and Uncle Peter will be a repeater. I say. 


S60 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

Judykins, besides your letter to Gilbert, 
wouldn’t it be capital for you to write a jour- 
nal-one to Phil, and send it every week? Just 
a little account of each day, if it’s only Mon- 
day — blowy, Tuesday — snowy. While he, at 
his end, will do the same for you. Does that 
meet your ladyship’s approval?” 

“Yes, oh! yes,” Judy answered in a queer- 
ish voice, sort of happy and miserable, with the 
happiness trying hardest to be on top. 

“Hullo!” cried Uncle Peter, “Granny is 
waving. That means scamper to the house 
and the best man beats.” 

All the same, though we started fair and 
square, he brought up the rear with Judy — 
she hanging on his arm and laughing as they 
came up together. We others were pretty well 
blown and, what’s more. Granny hadn’t waved, 
though she said it was quite time that we gave 
Cousin Laura and herself some of our society. 

The best thing about the letter plan was that 
we wouldn’t be out of speaking-distance after 
all. And at Christmas we would be together 
at Uncle Peter’s house in town — we boys, the 
girls. Granny, Cousin Laura and the two 
uncles. That would be pretty fine! It wasn’t 


“HANDKERCHIEF DAY” 


261 


such a dreadfully long time to Christmas any- 
way. And after it had passed, there would be 
the Easter holidays and then — before we knew 
it, grubbing early and late with scarcely any 
chance for fun, the summer vacation would be 
upon us, and we’d be back at Uplands again. 

Uncle Peter talked about these things just 
as if he were one of us. Somehow, too, he’d 
heard of Handkerchief Day, though who’d let 
on, I can’t imagine. But he didn’t object in 
the least to the term, he said he thought it 
rather jolly himself; yet he is usually quick at 
catching your meaning, though I suppose even 
the quickest is dull at times — that’s only man’s 
nature. Still, I must say, I marvelled at him, 
and I knew Judy did, too, because the little 
pucker showed all of a sudden between her 
eyes. 

“Why, Judykins,” he laughed, seeing it 
there, “ I verily believe you youngsters have all 
been thinking that Margery meant Handker- 
chief Day was just another name for Weeping 
Day. Perish the thought ! That isn’t like sun- 
maid Margery, who dimples and giggles if 
you so much as shake your finger at her. Take 
care. Goldilocks, remember how the bean came 


26^ WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

by his black streak — there’s no tailor near to 
sew you up if the same accident occurs. She 
meant that Handkerchief Day was Waving 
Day — clever Margery! — waving good luck, 
and good wishes, and good-by, which, you 
know, in the old times was ‘ God be with you.’ 
And as long as that’s its real meaning why 
should there be any tears? No, no, we’ll only 
wave for one another to see, and keep our own 
pain hidden. I should be sorry, indeed, if 
hearts didn’t ache, and eyes grow misty when 
we part from those we love. It’s going to be 
hard for us all, though much harder for the lit- 
tle maids than for you, my bold adventurers, 
starting out to see the world — you needn’t look 
so wise among yourselves. I know what I say. 
It always is hardest for those who stay behind. 
But keep up courage, all of you, wave your 
best, then go and have your cry out, and after- 
wards face things bravely. There’ll be a beau- 
tiful rainbow in the sky — the bow of hope.” 

For a minute Uncle Peter’s cheery voice was 
still and his face grave — graver than I’d ever 
seen it. I wondered what he was thinking of 
— then all of a sudden, he came back from his 
thoughts and looked around at us. And he 


HANDKERCHIEF DAY” 


263 


gave a chuckle — the softest, longest, kindest, 
roundest chuckle that lifted us right out of the 
dumps. 

“Parson Peter has finished his sermon,” he 
said, “but you won’t forget his words in a 
hurry, will you? When Handkerchief Day 
comes and all the little white birds are set dy- 
ing, there won’t be any tears, I’m sure, to make 
those who go, or those who stay, unhappy, just 
brave hearts everywhere and sunny smiles. Do 
you know I shouldn’t be surprised if you prom- 
ised to try at least? ” 

“ Oh! we do — we do ” interrupted Judy, 

as if she were spokesgirl for us all. 

“You bet we do,” we others chimed in, 
drowning her feeble voice, “ you wait and see.” 

“Ah! I was certain of it,” Uncle Peter cried 
with his pleasant laugh. 

And well he might be. Yet even if he hadn’t 
aired his views on the subject I’m positive none 
of us fellows would have made a scene; we’d 
have disported ourselves in a manful fashion, 
keeping those going-away feelings safely an- 
chored under our coats. Of course we couldn’t 
answer for the girls — ^that was too much to 
expect, one never can be sure of girls in any- 


26^ WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


thing! — but at least he’d put them on their 
mettle, and they’d promised to make his words 
triable. I wondered a little, though, at his 
thinking they would have the hardest part of 
it. It seemed to me that *(joe were the ones 
who’d suffer the most. What with lessons, 
new places, new faces, and the homesick feel- 
ing into the bargain, our lot wasn’t the happy 
one he’d painted. But the longer I thought of 
what he’d said, the plainer I saw that it really 
was more aching to stay behind. Going off 
to school was like going out into the world; the 
strangeness was frightening, and yet, at the 
same time, it sort of beckoned you on and made 
you eager about it. I should have to grind a 
lot — that’s what school means, of course — but 
there would be the other boys, and it wasn’t as 
if I were to be alone from the start; Gilbert 
would be with me, and my very best friend and 
crony — Jack Ronalds. 

Perhaps Uncle Peter was right after all. 
Granny would be lonely with us away, and 
Cousin Laura would miss us, too — she was get- 
ting different, somehow — and the girls would 
be in the very depths of dismalness without us 
— ^yes, it would come pretty rough on the girls 


‘‘HANDKERCHIEF DAY” 


265 


— on J udy most of all. She and I had always 
studied together, read the same books, played 
the same games, planned the same plans — and 
now, I was going off to the outside world to 
do things without her, and she had to stay be- 
hind. There wasn’t the least use in pulling a 
long face over the matter, she couldn’t go to a 
boys’ school, though I’d be willing to wager 
anytliing she could beat all the chaps in my 
class put together — I have to cram my hardest 
to keep up with her. But it couldn’t be, they 
didn’t take her kind. . . . Yes, it would be no 
end lonely without old Judy — nobody could 
quite make up for her, and I knew that in her 
heart she said the same thing about me, though 
her outside voice didn’t breathe a word of it 
— not once after Uncle Peter’s talk. She went 
about smiling and singing all the time. She 
meant to have the stiff est upper lip of the 
crowd, as anyone could see, only I didn’t in- 
tend to let a girl get ahead of me, even if she 
were my very own twin. 

Then Handkerchief Day came. Such a 
bright morning with the j oiliest little breeze 
stirring that sent down the gay colored leaves 
every now and then, and rippled through the 


266 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


bushes, and made the dahlias and asters bob 
about as if they were dancing. Everywhere the 
air was full of gold and sparkle. I crept out 
of bed dolefully and hardly said a word to the 
other fellows, who were dressing very sol- 
emnly. Generally we’d skylark as we got into 
our clothes, pillows would have to be dodged, 
wet sponges likewise, but this day we’d no heart 
for such childish acts. We just plunged into 
the task before us as if we hadn’t a moment to 
waste, and yet — though we spent no time in 
lighthearted sport — our fingers seemed all 
thumbs, and when at last we were ready we 
found, on going downstairs, that the others 
were all there — even to Cousin Laura. And 
everyone was so dreadfully polite! The girls, 
in particular, fairly tumbled over themselves 
in their efforts to wait on us, though there 
wasn’t an earthly thing to do. 

We trooped in to breakfast, grown-ups and 
all, and took our places at table. It seemed 
so foolish, somehow, to be sitting there. I 
don’t know how the others felt, but I didn’t 
want to touch a single mouthful — I think it 
would have choked me. Uncle Peter, however, 
set to work to eat a square meal, though he’d 


« HANDKERCHIEF DAY” 


267 


plenty to say for himself, too, nor was Granny 
silent. And as for Cousin Laura — she was like 
a well of fim bubbling over all the while. I 
didn’t hear a word she said, I only knew that 
she was laughing with the girls as if she were 
a mere kid. For my part I was quiet, though 
nobody noticed that, any more than that I left 
my food untasted. Duke was the only one who 
wasn’t blind. Presently I heard him at my 
elbow, chirping like a grasshopper: 

“ I done tol’ Cook ter sen’ up an lil ’teeny 
kickshaw, same ez ole Marse Shakespeare says, 
en I sabe hit perticklar fer you. Des you pitch 
right in.” 

I shook my head politely. I didn’t want 
kickshaws, or anything else; and off he went. 
He wasn’t the man to call the attention of the 
whole table to my lack of appetite, but he was 
back again almost the next moment and his 
voice was full of persuasiveness, though it was 
smaller than the smallest print. 

‘‘You sutney will be wastin’ erway befo’ 
Phoebius is high in heben, ef’n you don’ eat 
now,” he whispered. “You’se gwine trabel- 
lin’ fur en wide, en you’ll sho’ly faint by de 
way ef’n you don’ coal up. Des try dis yer 


268 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


hypocrite, hit ain’ got no nourishin’ qualities 
ter speak of, hit’s des got ‘ a goodly outside ’ ez 
Marse Shakespeare done observed, but hit’s 
better ’n nuffin’. Des you try hit, suh.” 

I hadn’t the heart to refuse him further, he 
seemed so full of concern. I took the hypo- 
crite that he held toward me — a monster fel- 
low — and made way with him in a jiffy. He 
was but ‘ a goodly outside ’ with naught within. 
Duke was back with another — bigger, browner, 
more satisfying — as the last mouthful slipped 
down. I treated the second even as I had the 
first, and a third soon went to keep the others 
company. I felt better then, and turned to 
solider things; Jack and Gilbert were doing 
their manful bests, following Uncle Peter’s 
lead, so I tried to catch up. I also found my 
tongue; I couldn’t very well sit dumb while 
the others were laughing and talking — I had 
to do my share. 

After we left the table there was still some 
time to put in before the carriage would come 
around, so we went about bidding the servants 
good-by. We’d been wise enough to do this 
the night before, for fear at the last some 
might be overlooked, but that didn’t prevent 


« HANDKERCHIEF DAY” 


269 


our doing it all over again. And everyivhere 
we received such heartfelt wishes, such honest 
handwringings. There was nothing put on 
by those simple, earnest souls — you could see 
they were downright sorry to have us go. I 
hadn’t reckoned on Hannah, and when the hour 
of parting came — before I knew what she was 
up to — she swooped me right into her arms and 
kissed me. . . . Oh, well, she’d taken care of 
Mother and the uncles, so I suppose she felt 
she could do it for their sakes; she’s oldish, too, 
and I couldn’t exactly be mad, especially as it 
was over in a jiffy, and Jack, and Gilbert were 
served in the same fashion. Duke, who felt 
more deeply, I’m very sure, did but wring 
my hand in a mournful silence. 

The stablemen were all grins and smirks, 
they seemed to think we were just going off 
to have fun; the seriousness of education meant 
nothing to their minds, and we didn’t have the 
time to convince them otherwise, though per- 
haps it might have been unpolite. As we were 
parting, William poked something into my 
hand; of course I guessed right away what it 
was from the shape — he couldn’t surprise me — 
but it was no end good of him to make me a 


270 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 

present. He called my attention in particular 
to some poetry on the outside of the parcel: 

When this you spill. 

Remember Bill. 

He said Miss Judy had made it up for him — 
he couldn’t think of the right words, but she’d 
written it off like chain-lightning, which 
showed what a wonder she was, though he’d 
really thought of the sense first, and he hoped 
I’d be true to his request. I assured him on 
my honor that I would, only I didn’t need any 
“ Meadow’s Breath ” to make me tliink of him. 
Which was true. Then he promised faithful 
to keep a father’s eye on Liberty, and on the 
other dogs, and so I left him. 

When the six of us turned to go back to the 
house Judy and I were side by side and some- 
how — without meaning to — we fell a little be- 
hind the others. We were very quiet and walk- 
ing a bit slowly — and that’s the time the 
thoughts come ! Suddenly the grass got kinder 
woggily under my feet and I had to stand 
still — I couldn’t take another step. 

“Oh, Judy,” I began. 


« HANDKERCHIEF DAY ” m 

She stopped, too, and turned her face toward 
me; he eyes were very shiny, and her mouth 
trembled a little at the corners. 

‘‘Oh, Phil,” she breathed back, “Oh, Phil 

” then her voice broke. The next moment 

she straightened her shoulders and tossed her 
head. “ See here, Philip Egerton,” she cried 
in her snippiest manner, “I’ll bet you my sil- 
ver pencil I can beat you to the Council Tree.” 

“Huh! you think you can, do you?” I 
snorted. “ Well, the only time you can do that, 
Smarty, is when I’m asleep, or lame. Toe up, 
now. Are you ready? Go-o!” 

We started on the word and I tell you what, 
we flew. The other kids fell back in surprise 
as we streaked past, though — when they saw 
what our game was — they fllled the air with 
shouts. The boisterous little breeze laughed, 
too, among the leaves, sending them down by 
twos and threes on our path, and the dogs came 
leaping after, not so much for the fun of rac- 
ing, as for the fun of being with us. On and 
on we ran, across the lawn, and in and out of 
the happy sunlight — pretty even for the most 
part, but of course I touched goal first. I 


27a WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


couldn’t be beaten by a girl — not even by Judy. 
She came up the next moment, with her face 
all shining and rosy; then we went back to the 
others, swinging hands and laughing — laugh- 
ing, on my honor I 

Danby was at the door as we reached the 
house and then the kissing began. Yes, I did 
it. Why not? Granny, dear Granny, of 
course, and Cousin Laura — not once, but 
severial times — and Sheila, and that dimpling 
Walking Delegate of a Margery — and old 
Judy. The other fellows and Uncle Peter were 
doing the same thing, and when that part of 
the programme was over the dear dogs had to 
be hugged and patted; then the next we knew 
we were in the carriage, the wheels had turned 
• — and we were off. 

Handkerchief Day indeed! Such a flutter- 
ing of white wings ever5rwhere, for the family 
and the servants, as well, were waving their 
mightiest. It was a sight worth seeing, you can 
bet. The air was full of dancing shapes, and 
full, too, of jolly shouts: “Good luck.” 
“Come again.” “Write soon.” “Good-by.” 
“ Be-careful-about-moving-trains.” And we, 
in our turn, shrieked back, calling out a hun- 


« HANDKERCHIEF DAY” 


dred cautions — laughing and shouting with 
the best of them. 

Just as we reached the bend of the road 
where you catch the last glimpse of the house 
we saw Judy step out from the others and run 
down into the drive, her hands to her mouth. 
Instantly Uncle Peter ordered Danby to stop, 
and down to us — very clearly — came her words : 

“‘God be with you.’” (You see she’d re- 
membered what Uncle Peter had told us Good- 
by really means.) 

He gave a quick start and his face grew very 
tender; then he stood right up in the carriage, 
with his hat held at his side. 

“ Sing with me,” he said to us swiftly. Noth- 
ing more than that. But before we could won- 
der at his words he broke out into the old song, 
and the next second we joined in at the top of 
our lungs: 

“ * God be with you till we meet again. 

By His counsels guide, uphold you. 

With his own securely fold you — 

God be with you till we meet again.* ** 

Danby flicked his whip and the horses 
sprang quickly forward, but above the sounds 


274 WE FOUR AND TWO MORE 


of jingling metal and the hum of wheels the 
chorus floated back to us from the dear voices 
at Uplands : 

“ * Till we meet — till we meet — 

God be with you till we meet again/ 


THE END 
















